


Fate - Brothers in Destiny

by benit149



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 104,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benit149/pseuds/benit149
Summary: Connla story #4. The young Lancer goes through her day-to-day life while mingling with various other Servants. As she gradually opens up to them, numerous issues surrounding her are revealed that worry several Servants. After bonding with a certain Red Saber, the two of them wind up in a fantastic situation that will require all of their wits and strength to overcome.





	1. Lady in the Kaleidoscope

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 1: Lady in the Kaleidoscope**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This and any future stories involving Connla will assume that you have read all previous stories, so some details already covered there will not be explained here. If you haven't read those, I recommend you do so before this one so you aren't too confused.

* * *

 

_Two weeks earlier…_

Within the realm of dreams, a lone man drifted through the nonsensical space of shapes and colors. Though he dreamed, he was perfectly alert and capable of discerning what he was witnessing. It was an awareness that normal humans would not be able to possess, but by no means was this man ordinary. He was born with the blood of both humans and gods, destined to act as the last link between the fading deities and the mortals who were supposed to revere them, yet they forgot this duty and lavished in their own self-worth.

Self-worth was literally the definition of this man’s personality, for he was none other than the Sumerian King of Heroes, the king who stood above all other kings – Gilgamesh, the owner of every Noble Phantasm in the world before his possessions were scattered across history and came into the hands of numerous heroes. If there was an object defined as a ‘treasure’, he could easily lay claim to it as his original property, and no one would be able to refute it. However, there were some things that remained even beyond his grasp. His nearly limitless treasury, the Gate of Babylon, only housed physical items of notable worth. There was nothing saying that he possessed anything intangible. Even immortality slipped through his fingers, though he laughed it off and discovered his humanity as a result.

Another thing Gilgamesh could not claim he possessed was the ability to rule over parallel worlds. Even he didn’t know how much the gods from the ancient world were aware of these alternate possibilities, or if they sought worship from humans of other universes to make up for the lack of faith they received in their own world. It was certainly a fascinating concept for him, being able to journey to other realms and add their treasures to his collection.

But he had to be careful.

Journeying through alternate worlds haphazardly could wind up causing him to be a wandering soul, lost in a maze of endless what-ifs for all eternity. As if that wasn’t convoluted enough, he possessed a kind of clairvoyance that allowed him to actually witness what these strange worlds entailed. He kept these visions heavily restrained though so that his memories would not get confused within the quagmire of millions of possibilities. He refused to allow his profound sense of self to be drowned out by numerous other possible versions of himself experiencing things that he claimed were utter nonsense, such as death or defeat.

His high divinity plus his clairvoyance were what allowed him to appear in this landscape, far removed from the concepts of time and space, staring into the distant kaleidoscope that was the realm between parallel worlds. Although his body was back in Chaldea, his spirit could be temporarily detached and allow him to reach this fantastic plane of existence through his dreams. It was easy for any other person to forget who they were and where they belonged when they gazed upon this incredible aurora of fantasy and wonder, but Gilgamesh would not allow that to happen. He knew his identity perfectly well, and not even the allure of endless exploration would deter him.

_Humph… This is the third or fourth time I have come here. Is even the Kaleidoscope boorish enough to try and challenge my ego? I am not so foolish as to be casually entranced by this hallucination. If someone is responsible for me being here, I will have to demonstrate my innate superiority over them._

Gilgamesh scoffed at the colorful sight and attempted to forcefully wake himself up. However, as he turned his back to the chromatic scenery and faced the darkness of empty space, he noticed something shine all by itself in the far distance. Isolated from the colorful space was a single star twinkling in the darkness, as if it wanted nothing to do with the myriad of parallel worlds. Imagine a tiny black spot on an otherwise perfectly white sheet of paper – this little star was no different than that. Just like such a black spot, this shining twinkle grabbed his attention. No other ‘stars’ existed in this place, so why was he able to see one?

That itching feeling of wanting to find out got the better of Gilgamesh. It was the same sort of sensation he felt whenever he got word of a potential treasure he could add to his collection. Was the star actually a treasure floating within this bizarre realm? He couldn’t resist the allure of claiming a unique object that had been stranded between worlds, even if the item itself was inherently worthless. He willed himself to venture closer to the tiny light. As he got within viewing distance however, he came to realize that the source of the light wasn’t an object he could grasp within his hand.

He narrowed his eyes as he wondered aloud, “A Reality Marble?”

This wasn’t the same as the numerous parallel worlds he saw just now. This was a secluded space that reflected a person’s inner world, detached from the concept of space-time and overriding existing space for a temporary period of time. Gilgamesh could sense an immense amount of mana emanating from whoever was inside the Marble, and he could tell it was enough to sustain their personal world for a much longer time than any mage or Servant was capable of.

It meant only one thing to him – someone had removed themselves from _all_ of the millions of alternate universes and had set up this Reality Marble within imaginary space as their home.

Gilgamesh didn’t know what to think. On one hand, he silently called this person a fool for shutting themselves away from every possible civilization out there, preferring to live alone like some kind of _hikikomori_. On the other hand, he wanted to know who could possibly possess enough mana to sustain a Reality Marble in the world between worlds, and for what purpose.

_Perhaps I could find a practical use for such talent instead of allowing it to languish in total isolation like this. But if they’re the one purposefully pulling me here…_

He arrogantly folded his arms and declared in a loud tone, “I don’t know who you are, mongrel, but if you’re the one responsible for summoning me here time and time again, I’ll teach you a worthwhile lesson in soliciting the King of Heroes’ attention without reason. Tell me your identity immediately, or face my indignation!”

He fully expected the unknown mage to come out of hiding quivering in respect from being in the presence of humanity’s oldest known Heroic Spirit. Although he was disappointed in the lack of response from the unknown mage, deep down he wasn’t really surprised. Not everyone revered him in the way he demanded everyone around him to. It was times like these that he needed to enforce his own laws to get upstarts like these to obey him.

“You’ve made your grave, mongrel,” Gilgamesh warned in an icy tone.

To accentuate his threat, dozens of rippling golden portals formed all around him. These were miniature warp holes to his infamous treasury, which housed untold amounts of gold, ancient treasures, and every original Noble Phantasm before they reached the hands of other heroes. Countless weapons – swords, spears, axes, knives, lances, sickles, and everything in between – slowly slid out of the portals, waiting to be fired upon the Reality Marble simultaneously.

Just then, the king caught sight of hundreds of flickering pink lights surrounding him. Shock was not an emotion that he experienced often, but when it happened, it was for a good reason. Right now though, he had every right to be startled. Without any warning, one of the cherry-colored lights had smashed against a golden portal and destroyed it before the weapon inside it could be thrown. Then another while he was distracted, followed by another, and another.

 _“Insolence!”_ Gilgamesh screamed. _“That’s it, mongrel! I’ll make you experience the depths of hell for sullying my property!”_

Without any further ceremony, he mentally commanded his weapons to fly out of the warp holes and shoot straight for the twinkling stars. What he didn’t realize was that there were actually _way_ more tiny stars than he anticipated. Hundreds? Thousands? No, probably _millions_ of shining lights gradually started glittering in the distance, perfectly flanking him before he could find an escape route.

“Guh!?” Gilgamesh choked up as the countless pink light arrows shot straight for him in a fusillade of hair-thin, lance-like projectiles. Even if he possessed enough weapons in his treasury to counter this onslaught, he was not prepared to take them out in time to retaliate. Even stranger was how these spears appeared to have the ability to duck and weave their way like slithery snakes around any obstacles he was actually able to launch. He realized that even if he had thrown all of his weapons, it wasn’t a guarantee that they would have actually intercepted the lances.

Instead of targeting the mage with his own barrage, he had now become the target instead. Whatever their reasoning was for attacking him, it was clear that their fury was much greater than his.

Suddenly, he felt something wrap around his waist. He glanced down to discover an arm – obviously a woman’s from how slender it was – and grew curious because there was something he recognized on her right thumb. The newcomer ‘leapt’ through space with him in tow and proceeded to outpace the spears as they crashed and exploded all around the duo. Despite hauling the King of Heroes around her arm, the woman was surprisingly graceful and quick in her movements. From what he could tell, she probably moved as fast as his airship Vimana. He was too stunned by these sudden events to be humiliated at the idea of having to be rescued.

* * *

Inside the Reality Marble, a gentle breeze blew upon a dirt path, swaying the grass and wildflowers so that they danced in unison. Everything was illuminated with pastel colors thanks to the constant early evening sunset dappling the world with dramatic flares of pinks, purples and blues. The weather was always nice and mild – perfect for a couple seeking a night of quiet romance. Yet there seemed to be a hollow loneliness looming around the world, as this was a beautiful space which no one except for one person could enjoy. Even then, the Marble’s creator was so detached from everything around them that this majestic scenery failed to catch their attention, despite it being the reflection of their inner world.

The one responsible for creating their ideal getaway was a short-statured person garbed in thick layers of red druid’s robes. A hood covered their entire face save for their expressionless mouth, so it was impossible for anyone looking at them to tell what age or gender they were. There was no doubt that this druid was an exceptional mage however, since creating a Reality Marble was like stepping into the realm of gods in terms of how much mana was needed. Normally, Marbles would only last a few minutes before the World would override its effects and return everything back to normal space.

This Marble was outside the confines of the World, existing in the space between parallel worlds without being attached to any of them. That, coupled with the constant influx of mana being siphoned in from dead or dying alternate realities, allowed the druid to maintain their personal space for as long as they wished. It was the perfect way for them to escape from any and all civilization, enjoying their days in absolute silence without anyone trying to tell them what to do.

The only real source of noise one could find in this desolate realm was a lantern that flew next to the druid. It had elegant gold patterns etched around its base, and a soft pink light emanated from inside the glass. A small pair of wings on the ring attached to its top fluttered fervently, demonstrating considerable effort to stay aloft from the uneven distribution of weight. This lantern was a sentient familiar who took care of the menial duties that its master had no interest in dealing with.

The druid soon stopped walking and turned their attention to the colorful sky. They paused, which was unusual for the lantern to see.

“Is something wrong?” the familiar asked. Although it possessed no distinct face, it appeared concerned because its owner never looked at the sky.

“…"

“Outsiders? Wow, it’s been a while since anyone’s tried to pay a visit, huh? Well don’t worry – if they didn’t know how unwelcome they were before, they should now.”

“…”

“Ah… ‘Why are they still moving around?’, you ask? M-My apologies!” the lantern uttered in surprise. “I’ll send some of the golems after them! No, no, I’ll double up the security and see about procuring a new location! I should never have allowed them to find this spot in the first place! I’ll do everything I can to fix this! Just please don’t smash me into smithereens!”

The red-garbed druid paused, listening to the lantern’s frantic ramblings in silence. Then they kept walking forward along the quaint path while giving another unspoken command to their vassal.

“Eh? ‘Don’t bother’?” it wondered. “Why not? Isn’t it your policy to get rid of everyone who gets close to this space?”

“…”

“Oh, I see. You used up all of your energy just to drive them back. Yeah, I guess so. Your walking pace has really slowed down - you’re probably too tired to even make it back to the cottage. Just a second.”

The lantern shook several times like a jingle bell, and then the immediate landscape began to tremble. A couple of trees sprouted straight from the ground in rapid motion, and the soft leafy branches ensnared each other like ropes until they formed a makeshift hammock. The trees soon stopped creaking with life and froze into solid structures.

“There you go,” the familiar guided its charge to the impromptu bed and helped them lie down. “Sturdy enough for a power nap. I’ll take care of everything else, so you just have yourself a good rest, okay?”

The druid said nothing in response as they closed their eyes. It didn’t even take two minutes for them to fully pass out. The lantern conjured a fur blanket and fluttered above the sleeping figure to gently drape the animal pelt over its master’s body, although it took some effort since the fur was heavier than the lantern itself. Once it was sure the druid was tucked away, the familiar flew off to take care of other business.

* * *

The woman carried Gilgamesh away from the Reality Marble for a few more minutes, making sure they lost the pursuing magic spears before she could release her arm from his waist. They hovered in a safer area of the Kaleidoscope, allowing him to get a better look at her features. She looked to be in her early 20s, with long lavender hair tied into a low ponytail with a pink ribbon. She wore a green bodysuit with distinct Celtic markings all over, along with a pair of pauldrons on her shoulders. She carried a familiar leaf-bladed spear with a pink tassel on the opposite end. Although she could be easily classified as a Lancer, Gilgamesh wasn’t quick to judge due to the existence of other classes such as Alter Ego or Foreigner.

“I’m glad I came in time,” the woman said. “You should be more careful. What if your Spirit Origin had been destroyed before I could reach you?”

“Huh!” Gilgamesh scoffed and haughtily crossed his arms again. “I would have bestowed my gratitude had you not been so crass as to tell me what to do.”

“In this realm, if you die while dreaming, you will die for real. Is your pride so important that you would discard your life for it?”

“What a foolish question to ask. I am the very embodiment of pride in my status and nature. To say that pride defines my life is like saying that gold is the most precious metal in the world.”

“Actually, that would be rhodium. But I get what you’re saying.”

“… If you wish to be another victim to my Gate of Babylon, then feel free to continue running your mouth off like that, mongrel.”

Rather than show him any sort of remorse or apology for her words, the woman suppressed a chuckle and said, “That’s so like you, King of Heroes. But I’m afraid our time together is very limited, so I have to pass along my request to you immediately.”

“Request?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you have been brought here multiple times, yes?”

“Of course I noticed. What are you insinuating, mongrel?”

“Simply that I was the one responsible for pulling you here each time, but until now, you woke up before I could reach you.”

“Hoh? So the culprit has the courage to admit their hand in this little conspiracy against me. I hope you are prepared for the consequences, woman.”

“I’ll take whatever punishment you have to dole upon me, but please hear me out first.”

“… Then speak. And be concise about it. I hate having my time wasted on plebeians like you.”

She primly put her hands in front of her chest and continued, “You may have sought to challenge that mage for affronting your dignity… However, I wish to save them. Unfortunately, my strength alone will not be enough. My understanding is that you’re part of an organization of Servants who are contracted to a single Master, correct?”

“How would you know about such a thing?” Gilgamesh demanded. “Have you glimpsed into the world that I have been summoned into?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Please tell me – is there a little girl among those ranks who wears this?”

She showed him the golden ring with red markings on her thumb. He stared at it for a moment, then replied, “There is. Nothing more than the runt in the litter though - not even worth calling a proper mongrel.”

“Oh, good. So she’s on the same side as you in your world. Could you tell her and your Master to be careful when dreaming? That mage’s Reality Marble can only be accessed through this forbidden land, and if anyone ventures too close, either intentionally or by accident, well… They’ll wind up experiencing the same thing you just did.”

“A thorough rejection, with extreme prejudice.”

“Yes. Furthermore, there is a powerful barrier surrounding that small world that is nigh on impossible to break.”

“’Nigh on’, you say. Are you implying that there is some kind of weakness?”

“A very tiny one, but there is. Even so, no one can breach that army of magic spears that will disintegrate anyone they touch.”

“Ridiculous. So that mongrel has the gall to rival the number of weapons in my treasury.”

The woman shook her head dejectedly. “I’m terribly sorry to have to say this, but your collection doesn’t even come close.”

“What…?” his expression hardened, and his ruby eyes seemed to shine with fervor for a moment.

“If you possess a million weapons, then that person has all of the pebbles in the world to counter them. I’m sure even you could respect how many pebbles there are on Earth for them to transform into those weapons. And even if you were able to break through such a barrage, their barrier is practically perfect. Only those bearing the exact same Spirit Origin as me can remove it.”

“…”

“You’re free to be upset with what I just said, but facts are facts, and we need to face them.”

The Sumerian king was definitely angry with the woman’s bitter words. At the same time though, he held a tinge of respect for the weight behind her warning, so he found it difficult to be outright furious with her. She was only looking out for his well-being, and she _did_ save him from his perilous situation without benefit to herself. He murmured, “Very well. I’ll forgive your lack of prudence within my presence. So then, you said you had a request of me. If it winds up being too ridiculous, I’ll be taking your head as compensation for insulting me.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Since there’s another ‘me’ among your ranks, I want you to make sure she becomes strong enough to be able to break through that Reality Marble’s barrier and reach that isolated mage.”

“How stupid. Are you implying _that_ little runt is the key to dispelling that barrier?”

“It may be hard for you to believe, but it’s the truth. There’s something only she possesses that no other Servant can have. It’s something that cannot be stored in your treasury either – she must come here in person and fulfill this task herself.”

“Interesting,” Gilgamesh grew curious with this claim. “If you and the runt are one and the same, you should be able to take that barrier down as well.”

“True, but I’m afraid my power won’t be enough. Along with myself, the majority of my ‘other selves’ in different worlds are either too weak or forced to fight against other Servants, leaving them unable to help this one. I think there is hope in a ‘me’ who can befriend many strong Servants while serving the same Master. If she can just overcome the many emotional obstacles surrounding her, I think she can finally get through to that poor soul who has completely shut out the outside world and refuses to face their inner demons with courage.”

“So you really are another version of the runt… Why are you an adult, when the one I know is stuck as a child?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I come from a world that you will never get to experience, for I escaped its destruction and found myself here. As much as I want to help that isolated one, all I can do is be by their side while rescuing wanderers like you from their fury.”

“Hmph… So you want the runt to come here someday and force that worthless shut-in to come out.”

“Correct. All I ask is for someone to oversee her growth until she’s ready to take this mission on. You don’t need to do anything special either – just watch over her. Simple, isn’t it?”

“Dealing with a pathetic pup like that is a far cry from ‘simple’ for someone of my exalted status, woman. Why should I bother with any of this? What exactly am I going to get out of such a deal?”

“Well now,” the woman smiled lightly and put a hand on her cheek. “A man who shamelessly boasts his pride should have a good memory of whomever sullies his dignity, however slight it may be. Wouldn’t you want to ensure that our secluded friend understands how much of a mistake it was to attack the King of Heroes unprovoked?”

“Teaching them a lesson for nothing more than pride’s sake… Fwah hah hah hah!” Gilgamesh laughed. “You seem to know me better than you let on!”

“You and I had some dealings back in my world, so I’m quite familiar with how you work.”

“Interesting! Then I will add my own stipulation to the mix!” he declared, then pointed at her. “I will observe the runt, as you so ask. Should she be successful in assisting me with meting punishment upon that sequestered mongrel, you will have no choice but to become my possession!”

“Oh my.”

Surprisingly, the woman barely flinched at his outrageous demand. Her smile never faltered as she wondered aloud, “Have I become the next treasure you wish to add to your collection?”

“You sound like you have an objection to such a profound proposal.”

“A ‘proposal’, you say…”

She covered her mouth and giggled softly. “You certainly have a strange way of proposing to a woman, King of Heroes. Well, I suppose I signed myself up for this, so I should see it through properly. At the end of it all though, I’m probably just the flavor of the day before you move on to the next thing to pursue.”

“You’re not familiar with the concept of being offended, unlike a certain Saber I’ve come across.”

“When I’ve had such dealings with you in my world, such things cease to surprise me anymore.”

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “Just how exactly did we come to know each other in your world anyway?”

“That’ll be my secret,” she wagged her finger in a dismissive gesture. “If you _really_ want to find out, then hold up your end of the deal first. After I become your property, then I’ll tell you.”

“You’ve got some nerve, mongrel. Just you wait – once the runt finishes her job here, I’m going to force you to talk.”

“I’ll be waiting then.”

* * *

Soon enough, Gilgamesh woke up. Draped beneath perfect velvet and smooth silken blankets, he spent some time thinking about what he just experienced. Although it was a dream, he knew perfectly well that the events were very real. He had found a Reality Marble in the world between worlds, was rescued by a strange woman, and struck a deal with her. Although the bargain seemed pointless for both of them, he would not allow that unknown mage to tarnish his reputation without experiencing punishment for themselves.

To do that though, he would have to undertake an arduous task for someone of his standing; watching over one of Chaldea’s weakest Servants, whom he had no real connection to other than they had the same Master. Maybe there was a tinge of regret for agreeing to this. To him, it was like picking out a single ant from a bustling anthill and nurturing only that one. The idea was utterly absurd, yet he had to trudge through the humiliation and figure out when the Servant was ready to undertake this task.

Gilgamesh reluctantly got out of his lavish bed, sipped down a glass of high-class wine to wake up his taste buds, then summoned his characteristic golden armor over his entire body save his head before stepping out into the hallways of Chaldea. While preparing himself for the day, he heard several occasional footsteps running past his door, which piqued his curiosity. That’s when he found Medb hurrying past him without so much as glancing his way. He had some previous debates with her about whose treasury was greater, but he found her too conceited to understand that there literally was no comparison.

“Woman,” he stopped her abruptly. “What is so important that you would scamper past me like some headless rat?”

“Nothing _you’d_ care about,” the pink-haired lady retorted sharply. “More importantly, did you see Cu come this way?”

“That barbaric cur? Not a chance.”

“He must be in the Spiritron chamber by now! Get out of the way! I don’t have time to waste with you! Hang in there, Connie! Daddy and Auntie Medb will be there to rescue you!”

“… Connie?” Gilgamesh wondered. “Are you referring to that dog’s ‘son’?”

“Who else would I mean!? The poor girl’s fighting a Berserker all by herself!”

“Hoh?” he murmured while watching the frantic Medb hurry on by. Judging from the Queen of Connacht’s panicked expression, he assumed that whoever this Berserker was had to have been too powerful for the young Servant to handle without assistance.

_Saves me the trouble of having to test her abilities personally. If she can defeat such a Berserker without any help from Chaldea, I won’t have to worry about evaluating her combat progress._

A couple of Chaldea’s staff members ran past him without a word, but he kept his stride even and composed while heading for the chamber. He found a decent crowd of Servants and staff clamoring about, including Ritsuka, Mash, Roman, Cuchulainn Lancer and Medb, so already he could tell this was a huge incident for them. He approached one of the analysts and asked, “Tell me, mongrel. Who is the runt’s opponent?”

“I think Da Vinci said something about a corrupted version of Lancelot, sir. Compared to Lancer’s statistics, Berserker’s values are all much higher than hers. She has to turn the tide of this battle fast, or she’s going to be killed,” the man uttered, too focused on his analysis to actually notice who he was talking to.

The king opted to forgive this transgression due to the frantic nature of the situation, and muttered, “Is that right?”

He stepped back and leaned against the wall, purposely keeping his distance from the crowd. Although the memory wasn’t perfectly clear, there was the faint image of a man clad entirely in black knight’s armor who had the audacity to challenge him at least twice during a certain Holy Grail War.

_So the runt is fighting against that mad dog, hm?_

Gilgamesh’s lips curled into a bemused smile.

_Interesting. Show me what you can do in the face of the impossible, Child of Cuchulainn._

* * *

About half an hour later, the child Lancer known as Connla emerged from her Bloodstone and collapsed into Cuchulainn’s arms. After that, she would fall into the two-week coma that allowed her to experience the alternate Fifth Singularity. Gilgamesh didn’t have to worry about observing her for those 14 days and was free to do as he pleased. Once she woke up however, he would have to resume his observation and see if there were any other weaknesses he could assess.

There was one thing the strange woman said which kept bothering him:

_“If she can just overcome the many emotional obstacles surrounding her…”_

She wasn’t specific about what these ‘emotional obstacles’ entailed, and he wasn’t the type to ask such questions directly. If he wanted to find out what she meant, he would have to approach this with a more… refined touch.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello again, y’all. Coming up on the first year anniversary of _Laoch Gan Finsceal_ being published, as well as my FGO one-year anniversary on April 22. I’m not sure if I’ll be updating at a super rapid pace like I do during NaNoWriMo, but I’ve got enough ideas circling around to write this fourth installment. The idea is to finish this around summer, take another break, then go at it again in November/December with the fifth story. Rather optimistic, but let’s see how this goes, yeah?

As a side note, Gilgamesh is gonna be a really hard character to give justice to. Finding that balance between his ego and his fascination with interesting people is rather tricky, all while avoiding the typical Mary Sue archetypes for Connla. Don’t be too harsh with me if you find him a bit ‘off’ from canon – I haven’t seen every possible form of Fate media with him in it.


	2. Warped Mentality

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 2: Warped Mentality**

_The present…_

Fuyuki City’s Homurahara Academy was perfectly silent in the darkest hours of the night. All students and staff were gone home, most likely fast asleep as well. No one was around to witness the sight of two Servants as they stared at each other in the spacious courtyard where students normally mingled. A gentle wind blew around them, which would have been soothing if not for the incredible tension growing between them.

The first Servant was a tall Lancer garbed entirely in a bodysuit that was as ultramarine blue as his ponytailed hair. This was Cuchulainn, Ireland’s Child of Light and most famous Celtic hero of all time, who singlehandedly protected his country Ulster from the invading forces of Connacht. Squaring off against him was another Lancer, but this one was a seven-year old girl with short lavender hair, and she wore a similar mint green bodysuit beneath her white clothing. This was Cuchulainn’s ‘son’ who was actually born his daughter, hence her bearing the moniker Child of Cuchulainn. Her True Name was Connla, the ill-fated child who died at her father’s hand through a tragic mistake. Her legend was not as famous as his – heck, her birth as a girl was forgotten to humanity - but her role in his overall tale was a surprising one to those who didn’t expect it.

None of that mattered right now. In this moment, the two warriors would face each other in a game. It was a harmless match that would involve them trying to catch each other’s miniature flag that was pinned to the chests of their bodysuits. It was Cuchulainn’s idea so that he could see how far Connla had come in her path as a warrior. The two red flags fluttered in the breeze, tempting the Servants to go after their prize. Connla narrowed her eyes and frowned hard.

_Father has every advantage over me. The only thing I can do is play the long game and find that precious opening._

“Okay then,” Cuchulainn grinned. “Are you ready?”

The instant he asked, Connla immediately leapt backward as far as she could and exited the school’s side entrance, then sprinted down the street toward Fuyuki City. Her EX rank in agility granted her an incredible boost in speed that not many Servants were capable of matching. Although her other stats were not as impressive, most of her opponents would be hard-pressed to actually strike her when she really got going.

“Heh heh… Looks like you are,” he chuckled, then followed her down the same street. He knew what she was up to; the only thing she was better at than him was running, so he understood that she wanted to wear him down so that he’d lower his guard. He wasn’t going to fall for that ploy. If there was one thing Cuchulainn was famous for, it was his tenacity. His plan was to circumvent her at every corner and overwhelm her with brute force as quickly as he could, though he figured this would take a while due to the girl’s slippery nature. Even so, she couldn’t last as long as him due to her fragile young body and lack of formal training.

As Cuchulainn reached Fuyuki’s more modern district, he looked around to see where Connla had taken off to. He thought he saw movement from the corner of his eye and glanced up at the nearest skyscraper. He found the young girl running straight up the tall structure in an impressive feat of gravity-defying parkour.

“Idiot! You’re just exposing yourself like that!” Cuchulainn shouted at her and planted his feet upon the same wall.

She took a quick glance back and found him chasing after her with fervor in his eyes and his steps. The stretching stride of his long legs easily matched the frantic pace her shorter legs were capable of, so it was a dead even vertical race as he tried to catch up to her. She wanted to do something to lose him, so she skidded on her ankles to turn herself around, then conjured a large fireball in her palm before hurling it at him like a baseball. It twirled so hard that streaks of flames spewed from the edges. Cuchulainn saw the blazing projectile coming straight for him at breakneck speeds and swung Gae Bolg in an arc. The fireball detonated in a fantastic explosion of reds and oranges, illuminating the immediate area around him for a few seconds. While he was blinded, this was the perfect opportunity for Connla to reverse her course and hurry back down the building.

_FWOOSH!_

Cuchulainn broke out of the explosion and saw her rush past him faster than one could blink. She was moving so quickly that she generated a sonic boom as she soared by him. He grunted and scraped his metallic shoes upon the concrete building to stop his forward momentum, generating sparks all around his feet. He too raced down the skyscraper, keeping his eyes trained on Connla at all times. He found her attempting to lose him by hopping off more buildings before leaping atop a train. He planned his descent so that he would land right in front of her while she was breathing heavily from the feverish escape. Compared to her exhausted state, there was no indication that he had just gone through a lightning-fast pursuit – proof of the difference in their stamina levels.

Connla took a deep breath to compose herself, then wielded her spear to duel with Cuchulainn. They charged at each other in a crazed frenzy, all while the scenery of Fuyuki zoomed past them. Despite the insane amount of movement and flying sparks emanating from their weapons, both of them remained calm and focused on nothing but the fight. They refused to give the other an opportunity, with Cuchulainn pressing on the offensive while Connla kept him back with a solid defense.

 _Just a little more…_ she thought desperately, gritting her teeth.

She ducked a couple of his stabs, then twirled aside a swing and slashed at his midsection. He blocked it flawlessly, then hopped over her head and attempted to smash his ankle upon her shoulder. She backflipped to dodge the bone-crushing attack, albeit clumsily since she almost lost her footing on the train’s edge.

_Almost there!_

Cuchulainn got into a deadly-looking stance, wielding Gae Bolg over his entire body so that he was in position to charge at her like a starved beast. Once he got his hand on Connla, grabbing the flag off her shawl would be easy for him. She suppressed a gasp in her throat and glared up with wide eyes and clenched teeth. However, she wasn’t actually looking at him. There was something else that caught her attention – the moment she had been waiting for.

Cuchulainn looked confused as Connla actually buried her head beneath her hands and arms in some kind of blocking or ducking motion. Before he could turn around, the wall of the oncoming tunnel’s ceiling slammed against his back and knocked him clean off his feet, as if he had been sucker punched by some gargantuan golem. Connla zoomed right under the stunned hero, leaving him behind as she continued riding the train through the tunnel unscathed. She exhaled an adrenaline-rushed gasp, astonished that her idea actually worked. Still, she had no time to celebrate – it wouldn’t take long for him to recover, so she needed to move this battle to a safer location.

Once the train exited the tunnel, Connla looked up at the road above it and found Cuchulainn running across the street before performing an impressive long jump toward her. It was enough for him to reach the train, but she anticipated this and leapt off her perch back to the rooftops of Fuyuki’s industrial district. She nearly blended in with the nighttime darkness, so Cuchulainn instead shifted back to spirit form and followed her as an invisible ghost. Connla’s heart pounded rapidly as she scurried along the buildings like a squirrel scampering among tree branches, not knowing when or where he would show up next.

 ** _“TEYAAA~AAAHH!”_** Cuchulainn roared angrily, reappearing in human form and ambushing her from above, pointing Gae Bolg at her.

“Guh!” Connla gasped and used a Ken Rune to give herself a sudden boost in speed with some wind gusts, hurling herself out of the way of his piercing attack and rocketing toward a water tower. She bounced off various vertical surfaces like walls, billboards and various machines, richocheting around like a ping pong ball being slung around in an intense match. Cuchulainn calculated her pattern, then suddenly tossed Gae Bolg straight for the spot he anticipated she would land next. His aim was a little off as the spear gouged the metal inches below Connla. Through the rising smoke, she pounced upon him.

He certainly wasn’t prepared for her to shoot straight back at him, bending her knee so that it smashed against his face and sent him tumbling backwards. In that instant, she reached down for his flag and plucked it between her fingers, then used his chest as a platform to hop off him and land back on the rooftop in a squatting position. Cuchulainn regained his footing with the finesse of a cat and landed nearby, glaring at her with the intent to continue fighting.

However, the game was set. Connla held the captured flag high above to show him her victory. A bout of mirth overcame him, and he threw his head back while laughing aloud. After a moment, he settled down and exclaimed, “Damn, you got me!”

“I think you’re getting sloppy, Father,” Connla said sternly, putting her hands on her hips. The simulation of Fuyuki City shifted back into Chaldea’s regular training room. “A real Lancer would never have allowed that to happen.”

“Cut me some slack, will ya? I was preoccupied with other things.”

“What could be more important than overseeing my training?”

“Well…”

The door to the control panel slid open, and Mash Kyrielight stepped through while gently clapping her hands. She remarked, “That was incredible, Connla! I was literally on the edge of my seat! Lancers really are a class of their own when it comes to fighting!”

“I don’t know about that,” Connla twiddled her fingers. “Sabers are still considered the strongest class for a reason. It probably would have been much impossible for me if Father was summoned as a Saber.”

“You don’t need to be so modest. You did great, and that’s all that matters!”

“You think so?”

“There are still some areas that need work,” Cuchulainn said, “but as far as her speed goes, she’s top-class. Still, I was giving it my all so the young lady could see how awesome I was.”

“Oh, Father…” Connla sighed. She couldn’t deny that she got a little miffed whenever the topic switched to women. In her mind, Cuchulainn became hopeless the moment he was near attractive ladies that he wanted to impress.

Mash leaned over her and chuckled, “Looks like you were right. Sticking me at the control panel was enough to distract him, wasn’t it?”

“Seems like it. For being one of the world’s most powerful Lancers, Father’s behavior is easy to predict.”

“Hey, Connla!” Cuchulainn shouted. “Don’t tell me it was your idea to have the young lady observe us!”

The little girl timidly put her arms behind her back and mumbled, “Maybe…”

“You cheeky little brat! I call foul! That game was fixed!”

“I can’t help it. I’m not as powerful as you, so I have to use my brain to compensate for my lack of brawn.”

“Don’t give me that cute and innocent act! You’re never going to get stronger that way! More importantly, I don’t want you reminding me of Scathach! That woman’s strength and smarts are scary enough for me! I want you to grow up to be a much nicer lady than her!”

“I know Teacher hasn’t been summoned here yet, but I get the distinct feeling she’ll pop up and punish you if she ever heard such a thing.”

“Gah… It’s kind of terrifying how right you are…”

“All right, you two,” Mash implored them to stop arguing. “I think that’s enough training. Let’s take it easy for the rest of the day.”

“I’m exhausted,” Connla wiped her brow, then looked up at Cuchulainn and asked, “How about we go fishing? I haven’t really had the chance to sit down and chat with you.”

“Ah…” he uttered. “I don’t mind, but… T-There’s just a little appointment that I’ve waited quite a while for, so…”

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry about it. We can always go some other time.”

“Sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Connla left the training room, and the nervous Cuchulainn exhaled a sigh of relief before gasping, “That was way too close.”

“What was?” Mash wondered. “What sort of ‘appointment’ is more important than spending quality time with her?”

“Uh… The thing is, I’ve been working _so_ hard on gathering QP that Mata Hari offered to give me a massage… And then I agreed to play some mahjong with Drake, Tamamo and Jing Ke, while Boudica served us her best home cooking…” he admitted, looking more and more sheepish by the second. “Their time wasn’t exactly cheap, so that’s why I grinded the Treasure Vault so much…”

“ ** _What!?_** I don’t believe you!” the young Shielder exclaimed angrily. “You’d rather hang out with female Servants instead of your own daughter!?”

“That’s rich, coming from you! Connla used your charming body to get a leg up on me!”

“Strategically utilizing feminine wiles is different from sacrificing precious family time to cavort with women! You’re the second worst example of a father I’ve ever seen!”

“Whoa, down there, girl! It’s not like I mean any harm! I promised Connla I’d hang out with her next time! And what’s the deal with me being the ‘second worst’!?”

“Only because your eyes are not as shifty as my dad’s!” Mash shouted, taking on a completely different cadence when it was normally not like her to be this angry. The possessing Servant’s personality coupled with her own naive sense of righteousness was enough for the Demi-Servant to transform into her combat leotard, and she readied her huge black shield to use as a battering ram on him.

“Hey, hey, hey, this isn’t funny anymore!” Cuchulainn shouted, trying to flee from the irate teenager.

_“After I’m done with you, you’re going to be spending quality time in the medical ward with Irisviel instead!”_

**_“HWAAA~AAAH!?”_ **

* * *

Connla felt the hallway shake for a second. She looked back towards the training room and wondered, _What was that all about?_

She dismissed it after nothing else occurred and went to the laboratories on the opposite end of the facility. Since Cuchulainn turned down her offer to relax together, she felt it was a good time to get caught up on her mathematical studies. She went into Charles Babbage’s lab to pick out a textbook, then proceeded to go to the library. Her walk was unexpectedly interrupted when she found Jack the Ripper and Nursery Rhyme running along in a jubilant mood while carrying snacks and candy they stole from the kitchen.

Of all the Servants in Chaldea so far, these three were endearingly regarded as the Little Ladies Club by the older Servants due to them being the only female child Servants who had not reached their teenaged years yet. There were some boys as well like Alexander, Gilgamesh’s younger self, and Hans Christian Andersen, but there weren’t any other girls yet. Strangely enough, Connla was the only one who could _really_ be considered a child based on her legend, since Jack was a wraith comprised of the spirits of unborn babies who were either miscarried or aborted, while Nursery was the concept of fairy tales beloved by children taking human form to be a defender for the innocent. Even with these radically different origins however, once Jack and Nursery met Connla, their attachment to her was virtually secured.

“Hey, Connla! Look, look!” Nursery giggled exuberantly. “We snuck into the pantry and stole these right under Auntie Boudica and Auntie Raikou’s nose!”

“It would’ve been real bad if they caught us!” Jack exclaimed. “If they did, they would force us to eat vegetables and tofu for a whole week! That’s why I used my Presence Concealment to do the deed while Nursery kept them busy with a story!”

Connla raised an eyebrow and wondered, “Are you sure you should be saying such things to me so loudly? And what are you going to do with all of that junk food?”

“Oh, right! Come with us! We’re gonna watch an entire marathon of girls’ cartoons!”

“Huh? But I-“

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Nursery grabbed the bewildered Lancer’s arm and made her run along with them until they entered a play room that was designed specifically for Jack and Nursery’s shared tastes. The two excited girls carelessly tossed all of the bags of snacks onto the ground and turned on the TV to get the show running. Connla didn’t really know what was going on, so she sat down on a bean bag and blankly watched her friends scramble about. She could’ve left whenever she wanted to, but she had a bad feeling that the others would not let her go unless they unleashed a combined temper tantrum upon her.

* * *

_Six hours later…_

_“White Moon Princess Phantas-Moon! I won’t tolerate evil!”_

“Go, White Moon Princess! Show that Chaos prick who’s boss!” Nursery exclaimed.

“Chop him up! Turn him into pieces!” Jack cheered.

While the two child Servants were preoccupied with yelling at the television monitor, Connla sat there quietly reading up on advanced algebra. Although she tried to be invested in the cartoon, she soon lost interest in the formulaic plot and decided to concentrate on her studies instead. It was difficult to completely drown out Jack and Nursery’s incessant yelling when she wanted to solve problems like, “If 3 _x_ – _y_ = 12, what is the value of 8 _x_ /2 _y_?” Or, “If _x_ is the average of _m_ and 9, _y_ is the average of 2 _m_ , and _z_ is the average of 3 _m_ and 18, what is the average of _x_ , _y_ , and _z_ in terms of _m_?” Even so, she was able to concentrate enough to ponder the first mathematical problem.

_Instead of addressing 8x/2y at face value, I should change 8x so that the numerator and denominator are expressed with the same base. Since 2 and 8 are both powers of 2, I can substitute 8x with (2 3)x/2y, and then change the formula to be 2(3x-y). The question states that 3x – y = 12, so substitute the exponent, and I get 8x/2y = 212._

Connla wrote down the solution in her book.

_That wasn’t so bad. Now for the next question…_

_“Hey, Connla!”_ Jack shouted in her face.

“Huh?”

“What are you doing!? We just finished the entire first season of _Phantas-Moon_!”

“That was so fun!” Nursery giggled. “Did you see what happened? Phantas-Moon was all like ‘Shiki is mine!’ And then she went BAM and POW with the power of the White Moon! It got real intense when her magic was sealed for a few episodes, but with the power of love and friendship, she managed to stand back up again and defeat the Dead Apostle Roa!”

“Oh… Is that right?” Connla murmured blankly.

“Eh?” Nursery became disappointed. “Were you not watching?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if you two noticed, but I lost interest by the first few episodes. I’ve been spending this whole time catching up on my studies.”

“Why didn’t you say anything!?” Jack whined. “If you were bored, we could have watched something else!”

“Um, well… It’s just that I could never understand the appeal of watching TV… Besides, the activities that I call ‘enjoyable’ are hardly what either of you two would like, so I decided to let you guys enjoy your show.”

“Then what do you do for fun, Big Sis?”

“I don’t think you’d be interested…”

As soon as Connla objected however, Jack grabbed the paper out of her hands and tried to read its contents. She squinted and muttered, “Ehh… ‘You’re in a perilous situation! There are two skyscrapers 50 meters apart; Structure One has 75 floors, while Structure Two is 20 meters shorter with just 70 floors. You’re on the 75th floor of Structure One, which has been rigged with bombs. There is also a car where you are right now, full of gas and with the key in its ignition, sitting 60 meters away from the opposite window. Your only option for escape is to fly over the gap between the two structures using the car. Given these factors, would it be possible to make it across?’”

Jack scrunched her face in confusion. “What is this? How do you figure out something like that?”

“Easy! You’d have to go _REALLY_ fast!” Nursery exclaimed, spreading her arms out for emphasis.

“Yeah, but _how_ fast?”

Connla nodded and explained, “There’s a lot of information that’s not actually given in the problem, but they’re basically numbers that you have to know about and plug into the equation. First, you have to remember Newton’s first law of motion – an object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion, with the same speed and same direction, unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. You’d think that you could make a 50 meter jump with the car with just that, but that’s where Earth’s most natural unbalanced force comes into play – gravity.”

“Like the apple that fell on that guy’s head!” Nursery grinned.

“Yeah. While the car is in midair, gravity will take effect and cause it to fall. We’re given a 20 meter grace distance for falling onto the other building, so that information can be used in the formula t = √2d/g, with T meaning time, D meaning the falling distance, and G meaning gravity at 9.80665 m/s2. So the equation would be t = √(2 x 20)/9.80665, equaling 2.02 seconds.”

“Only two seconds…? To do what, exactly?”

“Remember that 60-meter space between the car and the window? That’s how much distance you have to accelerate enough to make it across that gap. To use the lowest common denominator, you’d have to reach 30 meters in one second to be able to fly between the two skyscrapers and fall onto the shorter structure safely. Convert 30 m/s so that meters is expressed as kilometers, likewise with seconds as hours instead, and you get a velocity of 108 km/h that you need to reach with the car. That’s pretty much the answer to your question, Jack.”

“Ohh…” the young Assassin murmured.

“But with only 60 meters between the car and the window, the most you could accelerate to is 60 km/h. That means you’d hit the ground before you could reach the tower,” Connla shook her head.

“So it’s impossible to do it,” Nursery said.

“Not necessarily. We’re still forgetting something – the bomb.”

“Ehhh!? B-But that means… That means you’ll die either way!”

“If you do nothing, yes. But a bomb can provide something crucial for your survival as well – the necessary momentum for you to make up the 48 km/h difference that the car alone cannot provide.”

“Really!?”

“It all comes down to timing. So long as you reach your top speed, crash through the window, and let the bomb’s explosion push you forward while in midair, you can cross the gap and fall onto Structure Two. So the real answer to this problem is that it’s possible to make it across.”

“He he, you’re so smart!” Nursery giggled. “I never would have thought of that!”

“Professor Moriarty made up this question for me. I should have expected him to throw in such a macabre element though. He must’ve wanted me to be tricked by the ridiculousness of such a situation and conclude that it was impossible.”

“Uuuh…” Jack whimpered while rubbing her temples. “All of these numbers and questions are making my head hurt.”

Connla blushed and muttered, “I guess I should’ve gone easy on the explanation. But that’s what I like to do for fun, if that helps explain anything.”

“How boring! I don’t wanna listen to such difficult things ever again, Big Sis! Save it for the adults!”

After Jack threw her tantrum, she stormed out of the playroom in a huff. She had gotten hungry during Connla’s detailed explanation and wanted to eat some of Emiya Archer’s cooking to get her mind off of the insane amount of math she was just exposed to. Connla watched her leave, then looked down at the textbook and sighed lightly.

“Um, well…” Nursery moaned. “I think that was kind of hard for me, but you looked so happy while explaining, so I had a lot of fun listening to you anyway.”

“Anything and everything under the sun is ‘fun’ to you,” the Lancer murmured dejectedly.

“I can’t help it. I like to go to new places, meet new people, and experience lots of new things. If those hard things are what you like to do, then go ahead and do it! Just don’t go into another lecture like that unless I say I’m interested, okay?”

“Sure. It was my fault for rambling on like that anyway. No wonder Jack was so overwhelmed.”

“Great! Now, you wanna have some candy with me?”

“No thanks. I think I’ll take a break.”

Connla took her textbook and headed out of the room, still feeling a bit down on herself despite Nursery’s encouragement. She passed by Moriarty’s room and quietly slipped in her written answer to his mathematical problem inside his mailbox. She yawned and went down the corridor to where she could find Charles Babbage’s laboratory. She had actually borrowed the textbook from him, so she wanted to return it properly.

One of the rooms she was about to walk past had a traditional Japanese _shoji_ screen door decorated with artwork of cranes flying past a setting sun. It was quite lovely enough for her to take a quick glance, but Japanese culture really wasn’t her thing and she continued along minding her own business… Or she would have had the door not slid open. An attractive young woman stepped through to block her way.

“Hello there, little one,” the lady giggled playfully, rotating a large red drinking dish betwixt her fingers.

“Um… Have we met before?” Connla wondered. There were so many Servants in Chaldea’s service that it was difficult for her to remember which ones she had met and which ones were complete strangers.

“Not formally, but I’ve seen you here and there. You can call me Shuten Douji,” the lady said, then gulped down a hearty amount of alcohol from her dish before gesturing her to enter the Japanese-styled tea room. “Do come in. Ibaraki and I are getting a little bored and need someone to chat with.”

The young Lancer grew nervous as she inspected both Shuten and the other Servant inside – Ibaraki Douji. Both of them were oni, or Japanese demons who lived hedonistic and destructive lives. Shuten was garbed in a ridiculously revealing costume that showed off as much of her pale skin as possible, while Ibaraki was more modest in her choice of a bright yellow kimono. Both of them sported sharp horns that pointed straight up from their foreheads.

Connla had a gut feeling that things would get dicey if she accepted Shuten’s offer, so she uttered, “I-I’m kind of in a hurry, so…”

“Hey, brat,” Ibaraki grunted gruffly. “You know what the most dangerous thing in the world is? A bored oni. If you don’t entertain us, we’ll amuse ourselves with some destruction of property instead. You wouldn’t like that, would you? No, you wouldn’t. So you’re gonna get your ass in here and keep us busy until we throw you out.”

“Er…”

“Don’t worry,” Shuten slurred and smiled. Her breath smelled so pungent that it was difficult for Connla to tell if she was sober or inebriated. “We just want you to have a nice meal with us. Come in, come in.”

She ushered the bewildered girl inside and had her sit on one side of the _chabudai_ , or the low table frequently seen in Japanese homes. Shuten gave her a hearty morsel of traditional food such as miso soup, sushi, rice with egg on top, grilled meat, tempura, sakura mochi, sweet rice cakes , and a cup of alcohol. Connla had to admit that the meal looked delicious, although she took issue with the beverage and said, “I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Is that right? Oh, dear. I thought from your conversation with the other cute girls that you were an adult shrunken back to her childhood years,” Shuten looked disappointed.

“You heard my conversation with Jack and Nursery?”

“Yes. It was most interesting, the way you spoke like a university professor even though you have the body of a first-grader.”

“But we were in a totally different room from you. How could you hear me?”

Ibaraki smirked, “Don’t underestimate an oni’s sense of hearing. Back on Mount Ooe, we always kept our ears trained on Kyoto in the hope of hearing about new treasure to pillage.”

“I see…”

“Since you’re not gonna have the booze, I’ll gladly take it.”

“Oh, Ibaraki, you shouldn’t be so rude to our little playth- I mean, guest,” Shuten chuckled while her friend snatched Connla’s cup of _sake_ and casually downed it in one gulp. She gave the girl some green tea instead, then observed as she ate quietly.

Ibaraki became curious when Connla ignored the sweet mochi and grumbled, “Geez, aren’t you the picky one. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t care for sweet things.”

“Why not? All kids love ‘em.”

“Well… My mother would scold me terribly if I ate anything other than fruit that she allowed me to have… It was usually spoiled, too. I had no choice but to avoid sweet food if I wanted to live to see the next day…”

“Is that so? Heh heh. Your mom would have fit right in with us oni.”

Connla became even more forlorn. It was frightening how much she agreed with Ibaraki, even though she obeyed such a woman as a faithful daughter for her life. It was disturbing to see how literally every Servant she met found Aife’s treatment of her to be extremely repulsive abuse, rather than as a form of ‘training’ that she had always believed in. She should have been smart enough to see through her mother’s lies, but she didn’t. She stared at her reflection upon the green tea and saw how pathetic she looked.

“Come now, sweetheart. There’s no need to make such a face,” Shuten implored and leaned in close to Connla, resting her arm around her shoulders. “We might be oni, but not even we’re that evil. We just wanted you to relax for a bit from playing adult.”

“Playing… adult?”

“Here, have a bite. No one’s gonna hurt you if you just have a nibble.”

“Uh…” the child gasped nervously as Shuten brought a mochi up to her mouth, imploring her to eat it. She wasn’t sure whether to accept the invitation or scramble out of there as fast as she could. Ibaraki looked like she was going to laugh out loud at the dumb look on Connla’s face.

Luckily, someone else would come along and get her out of this pinch.

**_“SPAAA~AAA~AAA~AAARK!”_ **

Before anyone could react, a muscular man with cropped blonde hair that shone like gold rammed through the sliding door with the fury of an angry bull. Although they couldn’t see his eyes beneath his dark sunglasses, his enraged expression was enough to instinctively warn them to get the hell out of his way. It was a good thing the two oni followed their impulses to scramble away because a split second later, the man slammed a large axe upon the _chabudai_ , splitting it into clean halves and throwing all of the food, drinks and tableware in every direction.

Connla remained kneeling there in repressed shock, unsure of what the hell just happened. She was so stunned, she still held the cup of green tea firmly in her hands even though all of the contents had spilled out. Ibaraki tumbled backwards and smacked her back against the wall. Shuten elegantly flipped on one hand while keeping her drinking cup steady, landing perfectly on her feet as if nothing happened.

Ibaraki had to take a second to dislodge her oni horns from the wall, then she shook her head and shouted, “What the hell!? Whose idea was it to invite the man-child to our party!?”

“He he he,” Shuten giggled as she watched the man remove his axe from the sliced crevice the weapon caused. “What an unexpected surprise. I didn’t know you wanted to see me so badly, boy.”

“Shut up!” the burly fellow snapped, appearing to tremble for a second at Shuten’s playful quip.

Connla looked up at him blankly. She recognized him as Sakata Kintoki, one of Minamoto-no-Raikou’s four legendary warriors who hunted the demons that plagued Japan such as oni like Ibaraki and Shuten. She didn’t have many interactions with him so far, but from what Jack and Nursery told her before, he often acted like a big brother figure towards the younger Servants. It probably helped that his own mentality wasn’t much better than that of a child’s, so he could easily relate to small kids despite being a fully-grown man.

“Then what is it? Are you here to test your axe’s sharpness on me, like some low-grade _tsujigiri_? †” Shuten chuckled.

“Hey, don’t put me on the same level as Okada!” Kintoki retorted. “I made sure to announce myself first!”

“Screaming like some kind of super-hero doesn’t qualify as an announcement!” Ibaraki retorted.

“Sure it does! I won’t tolerate anything other than a golden introduction! But more importantly, what the hell are you godforsaken oni doing, giving alcohol to a minor!? Don’t you know it goes against contemporary moral standards!?”

“Ohh, so _that’s_ why you’re so upset, boy,” Shuten smiled broadly. “Come on, relax. Those kinds of things don’t apply to us Servants. We’re entities outside the confines of time, so the laws of any era shouldn’t affect us.”

“That’s just a low-down excuse to get a child drunk, Servant or not! I won’t stand for it!”

“Oh hoh?” Ibaraki smiled. “Since you’ve got the mind of a newborn baby, does that mean the human world’s silly ‘child protection laws’ apply to you too?”

“Of course not! I just can’t hold my liquor well, so I don’t go for the stuff. Better that I don’t if I want to be a golden role model for kids everywhere!”

“Ugh, so annoying… I’m not drunk enough to deal with this shit.”

Ibaraki callously laid on her side facing away from the scene while guzzling down a gourd of _sake_. Kintoki leaned in over Connla and said, “C’mon, missy. Let’s get you out of this cesspool of sin and debauchery. Big Bro will treat you to an ice cream sundae instead.”

“Sure… But no thank you for the ice cream.”

“No? Then what do you want instead?”

“Some black coffee would be nice.”

“Umm… Coffee, you say?” Kintoki raised an eyebrow in disgust. “That stuff’s kinda gross.”

“Don’t say that. A piping hot mug of South American brew is great for waking you up. Ethiopian beans are even better.”

“O-Okay… Do you take sugar or milk?”

“No,” Connla shook her head. “That just ruins the natural flavor.”

“Ugh… Sorry, missy. That just ain’t my kind of thing.”

She got up and passed by Kintoki while muttering in a low tone, “It’s okay. I can get my own.”

He looked down at her as she left for the kitchen. Although he couldn’t actually see her face, he understood just from her shaky voice that she wasn’t in a good mood.

_What’s gotten into her all of a sudden?_

“Ahh, there goes our next victim,” Ibaraki whined. “I thought it’d be fun to break her, but she’s already beyond repair.”

“Don’t pester the kid with your deranged ideas of fun,” Kintoki demanded.

“Make me. Nothing’s gonna stop me from doing it again.”

He retorted with a smug grin, “Oh yeah? Then would it be ten times more fun if Boss Raikou found out about this little stunt?”

“Geh!?” Ibaraki shuddered, dreading the idea of having to face Minamoto-no-Raikou herself. “Then, uh… you don’t say a word to that crazy woman, and I won’t bug the pipsqueak anymore.”

“Well, I’ll be. You actually _are_ capable of good ideas.”

“Shove it.”

Confident that he got his message across, Kintoki left the oni to their drunken merriment. Shuten followed him for a few steps, irritating him further as he whirled around and demanded, “What do you want?”

“Just kind of curious. How did you find out we were treating the little lady to our feast?” she wondered.

He grinned boldly. “The other Golden Boy warned me about it.”

“The other one? I wonder who you mean.”

“That ain’t important. He just gave me a tip, and that led me to your shenanigans.”

“He he, come now. You make it sound like Ibaraki and I had some insidious motives for the little one. She looked like she was sad, so we gave her a treat to cheer her up. Isn’t that what you’re always supposed to do with children?”

“I don’t like an oni’s definition of a ‘treat’.”

“Oh, relax now. We didn’t give her any alcohol – Ibaraki was practically guzzling all of it down anyway.”

“Hmph… Well, whatever. I’m getting out of here before Boss Raikou finds us hanging out together. You and I both know that would be one hell of a not-golden time,” Kintoki dismissed the oni with a wave and tried to bid a hasty retreat.

Shuten followed the annoyed Berserker some more and murmured, “Say, boy. Let me give you some food for thought before you leave.”

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

“Then pretend I’m just talking to myself. It’s true what most people say about you; that you have the physique of a strapping man, yet the mindset of a silly boy playing hero. No one seems to complain about it though – they actually find it part of your charm as a Heroic Spirit.”

“Yeah… So what?”

“I thought you weren’t listening.”

“Stop being coy and get to the point already!”

“Then imagine the opposite – having the body of a child and the mind of an adult’s. Can you imagine how frustrating it would be, not having anyone take you seriously? Day in and day out, some people tell you to ‘act your age’, while others tell you to ‘be yourself’. Both pieces of advice have merit in their own way, yet create conflict when said together. Do you force yourself to conform to everyone else’s standards while denying yourself? Or do you follow your own path knowing you will be scorned by everyone else? How does a child with an adult’s thought patterns make the transition in a way that isn’t destructive when the rest of society is hopelessly clueless to such a person’s plight? The answer is so easy that even you can understand.”

Shuten lithely strode back to her room, then glanced over her shoulder at the stoic Kintoki and smiled lightly.

“They can’t.”

He stood there in absolute silence, disregarding the oni as she shut the sliding door closed.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

† - _Tsujigiri_ were samurai who killed people passing by to test a new sword.

If any _Detective Conan_ fans are reading this chapter, I’m sure you’ll recognize the formula Connla is talking about from the fifth movie, _Countdown to Heaven_. There’s no way I’m smart enough to study advanced math to make up my own problems like that, so I’m shamelessly borrowing (stealing?) from other sources and rewording them in my style.


	3. Artificial Intellect

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 3: Artificial Intellect**

The following morning, Ritsuka employed Connla as one of her Servants to fight against Archer-class Ember Hands. These monsters dropped materials that Ritsuka could use to boost her Servants’ strength, but she needed to choose the appropriate Servants to fight each class type of Ember Hand. She often chose Connla as her Lancer due to her Noble Phantasm affecting every enemy on the field. Even though it tired the child Servant every time she used it, she believed she just needed practice to improve her stamina.

Once they finished hunting as many Ember Hands as they could, Ritsuka and Connla returned to Chaldea’s simulator. Ritsuka patted the girl’s head and said, “Good work. Thanks for your help as always.”

“It’s nothing. This is to make up for me not being useful for the last while,” Connla murmured.

“I told you over and over again not to worry about that. No one wants you to push yourself too hard.”

“I know that, Master. It’s just… I have no idea why I had such a vivid dream of myself in another world.”

“That sure was mysterious. I wonder what caused that to happen.”

“I really don’t know. I just hope it doesn’t occur again, but… For some reason, I feel like I can’t make any promises…”

“It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up if it happens again. Even if you’re incapacitated, I still have plenty of Servants who can assist me with the Grand Orders.”

“Hmm…” Connla mumbled to herself. She looked up at Ritsuka and asked, “Master?”

“What is it?” the Magus leaned down.

“I know I’m just a trainee compared to your other Lancers like Father, Lord Karna and Sir Diarmuid, but… Do you think I’ll ever be as good as them?”

“What are you talking about? You _are_ as good as them!”

“Am I?” the child wondered, appearing unconvinced of Ritsuka’s optimism.

The teenager chuckled and said, “Cu Alter was right. He told me that you tend to ask a bunch of deep questions whenever you’re tired. He says it’s a bad habit that you need to learn to kick.”

“Alter said that?” Connla blinked. “Uh… I guess I do. Maybe I’m more worn out than I thought.”

“See? It’s called a bad habit because you don’t know you’re doing it unless someone else points it out for you. I’m done hunting for Embers today, so I’ll be bringing some Riders with me to the Treasure Vault later. Take it easy and relax for now. I’ll need your help for the next Archer rotation though.”

“Sure.”

* * *

In his private quarters, which doubled as an engineering research laboratory, the Caster-class Servant known as Charles Babbage carefully examined the many parts that comprised an Automata doll strewn across the table. Known as the King of Steam, or the Father of the Computer, Babbage was a renowned mathematician who invented the first computers in the world – the Difference Engine and the Analytical Engine. His dream was to create a world that ran off of steam power, but he died before he could accomplish it. To compensate for this as a Servant, he surrounded himself in a Reality Marble that made him appear as a monstrous steam-powered robot, though no one was able to see what his true face looked like.

Regardless, Babbage’s incredible intellect and knack for understanding machines was a valuable asset to Chaldea, so no one paid any mind to his eccentric desire to alter his body to live his dream out. At the moment, he was analyzing the parts to an enemy that he had taken care of earlier because he had never seen assassin dolls that operated on miniature steam engines. It was the result of a hypothetical version of himself who truly became the King of Steam in an alternate world, where the way of knowledge and intelligence dominated war and chivalry to the point that this other Babbage would send assassins to kill anyone who plotted to overthrow his dream world through violence.

Chaldea’s Babbage found it difficult to comprehend this unusual reality, yet he wanted to understand the mechanics that his other self had invented so that he could find some practical application for Chaldea’s purposes. He was confounded by a problem he came across however, so he examined his bookshelves that were lined with numerous advanced mathematical textbooks to see if any of his literature could provide a solution. As he scanned through each of them, he noticed that some of his more basic textbooks was missing.

_Hm… The same books are missing. If my logic is correct, there is only one culprit responsible for this._

Babbage decided to take a break from his work and headed to the library. It was a huge space full of hundreds of shelves containing thousands upon thousands of books. Dim lamps and chandeliers provided just enough ambience for research and reading. After some searching, Babbage found Connla tucked away in the back corner of the library, sitting at a small table suitable for children yet surrounded by the physics and mathematics books he was looking for.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he murmured as quietly as he could.

“Mr. Babbage? Do you need me for something?” she whispered, then yawned and drank some of her dark coffee to stay awake.

“I assumed you were in possession of my textbooks concerning algebraic notations.”

“Uh… Whoops. I completely forgot to ask you first. You looked so busy with that Automata that I didn’t want to disturb you, so I just kind of snuck in and borrowed them on my own.”

“Was I that distracted?”

“Yes. I even called your name a couple of times, but you never responded. Maybe I should have waited instead.”

“No, I do not mind. So long as they are returned to their appropriate shelves in my lab, you are free to borrow them as much as you wish.”

“Thanks. I’ve been told that I should always keep my mind sharp.”

“Indeed. Sharp minds are one of the greatest sources of change for this world. So then, what are you studying, and what do you hope to accomplish with that knowledge?”

“Hmm… I became interested in solving one of the Millennium Prize Puzzles, but I needed to brush up on all of the basics first before I could delve into the specifics concerning each problem, and then choose one of them to explore further.”

“Oh,” the red light represent Babbage’s eye glowed as he reacted with fascination. “Those are the six most unsolved problems of mathematics. Solutions to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, the Hodge conjecture, the Navier-Stokes existence and smoothness, the P vs. NP problem, the Riemann hypothesis, and Yang-Mills existence and mass gap are considered the holy grails of physics that could potentially revolutionize mathematics and mechanics.”

“Mm. There used to be seven, but the Poincare conjecture has already been solved. I’m not sure which of the other six I want to learn in the long run though. All of them have their unique points, but I don’t want to get carried away with studying all of them at once, or else I might strain myself.”

“Might I suggest the P vs. NP problem then? It is one that I hold personal interest in due to its profound implications in computer science should it be solved. Perhaps we could collaborate once you are sufficiently studied up.”

“P vs. NP…” Connla murmured thoughtfully. “That was kind of tricky for me to understand since I don’t know a lot about computer science.”

“Then I shall impart my knowledge through concise lessons that will make it simpler for you to comprehend.”

“Will you? I thought you were busy assisting studying that doll.”

“That too is but a mere pastime of mine. I do not mind tutoring you in subjects you may have trouble with.”

She nodded, then returned her attention to her studies, expecting Babbage to be satisfied with this conversation and leave her be. After an awkward minute passed, she looked back at him and asked, “Um… Is there something else you need?”

“Ah, pardon my continued interruption. Might I ask something not apropos of this conversation?”

Connla looked up at him curiously. “Hm? What is it?”

“Just for the record, state your age.”

“Huh? I’m seven.”

“And you have been summoned in your prime?”

“Yes. This is how I appeared when I died. It’s impossible to determine what I would be like as an adult, so I’m always summoned as a child.”

“I see,” Babbage murmured.

“Why are you asking me such questions?” Connla asked.

“Well… Perhaps it is easiest to say that I see a distinct disconnect between who you are and the few details concerning your legend. My understanding is that although you are a prodigy in the art of war due to your training under Aife and Scathach, there is no evidence to suggest that you were a child genius.”

Her expression turned distant. “Perhaps that’s just a fact which got lost in human history.”

“I do not believe so. Granted, there have been child geniuses who have left their mark in history, but it has been established that their intellect is natural. I do not get the same impression from you.”

She anxiously fiddled her fingers. “What do you mean? Intellect is intellect, right?”

“There is a difference between a healthy mind and an unhealthy one. Are you being forced into learning such difficult subjects when it is not necessary of you? Is some outside influence compelling you to study so hard out of fear of some devastating consequence?”

“…”

She thought back to what Aife said during the Scotland incident:

_“I even had a druid come and use his magic on you to change your personality!”_

Babbage noticed her tense behavior and said, “My apologies for causing such duress. My inquiries are derived only from a personal concern for your mental well-being.”

She didn’t respond. She hadn’t seriously thought of what Aife meant when she said that, and it brought upon a tsunami of worries that suddenly threatened to make her upset. If there really was a correlation between Connla’s high level of intellect and this so-call ‘magic’, perhaps she could actually be putting herself in harm’s way without realizing it. At the same time however, only a very select few knew about the incident with Aife, and all agreed on keeping it secret from the other Servants so as not to cause Connla any more stress with needless gossip and rumors. If she wanted to explain everything to Babbage, she would have to reveal what happened, and she wasn’t sure if the scientist would be able to keep silent about such a complex matter.

“You look unwell,” Babbage said. “Perhaps a visit to the sick bay is in order.”

“I-I’m not sick, per se…”

“Then why the vacant expression?”

“Well, um… The thing is… It’s hard to explain… But I think something happened to me to alter how my mind works…”

“Meaning?”

“Hmm… I’m not really sure… Maybe Dr. Roman could help.”

“A medical examination? What a splendid idea. If medical proof can help explain your abnormal condition, I would be able to derive reasonable conclusions from the results and determine where you stand academically,” Babbage started to grow excited, and several vents opened up all around his mechanical body. “Now then, let us proceed to the medical ward posthaste!”

Upon saying that, a volley of white steam gushed out of the vents and filled the entire library with a dense cloud of vapor. Connla just sat there in a dazed shock, barely registering what happened. In another part of the library, they could hear Andersen shouting furiously, “What the hell is this, Babbage!? I told you to keep quiet, and you pull a stunt like this!? Are you as stupid as you look, you mechanical dolt!?”

“My apologies,” Babbage called out. “I got a little carried away.”

“A little!? A _LITTLE!?_ Don’t you understand how difficult it is to preserve books when they’re exposed to so much water like this!? You’ve got more than hell to pay if these books wind up being ruined! More importantly, what about my deadline!? If I miss my schedule, I’ll turn your metal hide into a printing press and use it until you become worthless scrap!”

Nearby, they also heard Shakespeare exclaim, “Such fervor is unbecoming for such a marvelous scene, Andersen! Inspiration waltzes within my imagination, curling with the same grace and propensity as this steam as it slips through a silent library full of neglected tomes! Ah, I feel my soul getting cleansed already!”

“Think you could save your child-like merriment for when I’m not in a bad mood, you pretentious fop!?” Andersen retorted.

“If that were the case, I’m afraid I would have to restrain myself for all time then, lad.”

Connla blushed, then whispered to Babbage, “Let’s get out of here before they find us.”

“A wise course of action. I find the prospect of being reduced to a printing press most troubling indeed.”

* * *

In the medical ward, Babbage explained everything about his concerns to Roman and Da Vinci. Roman nodded in curiosity and murmured, “Usually Servants don’t need much in the way of medical treatment, but I’ve also noticed Connla’s poor constitution and have been thinking of examining her.”

“Most fortuitous of you,” Babbage said. “At the very least, I would like to know if her intellect is the result of natural growth or something abnormal. I am not keen on exposing her to difficult lessons if it winds up harming her in the long run.”

“Then let’s check her Magic Circuits first. Luckily, we have just the thing.”

He guided them to a white chamber that contained a large, tube-like machine with a bed that could slide in and out. Roman explained, “This is a Magic Circuit Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine, or MCMRI. It works the same as a regular MRI, but this has the addition of scanning a person’s Magic Circuits all across their body. Sometimes there are ill effects if a person’s Circuits are out of whack, so I want to make sure everything’s okay in that department.”

“You mean… I’m supposed to get in this thing…?” Connla uttered.

“Well yeah. How else am I supposed to analyze the insides of your body?”

“Worry not,” Babbage said. “It is a harmless procedure.”

Despite the Caster’s assurance, she fidgeted timidly, feeling apprehensive from seeing such a bizarre device. She was slowly getting used to all of the futuristic technology scattered throughout Chaldea, but there were some machines that still baffled her. The MRI scanner looked terrifying from her young perspective, as if it were some kind of brainwashing machine. She was afraid that she would be traumatized by how confining and intimidating it looked from the inside.

Da Vinci noticed the girl’s anxious expression and said, “You look nervous. Maybe this will help you calm down.”

She reached into one of the many pockets in her dress and pulled out an unusual doll, then gave it to Connla. For all intents and purposes, this plush toy was a miniature version of Cuchulainn Alter with a much more basic, child-friendly design overall. The hood, tail, tattoos and tights were the same, but his large red eyes always looked menacing despite being adorable, and his chest only had the three larger tattoos. He held a much smaller version of Gae Bolg in one of his hands, still as pointy as the genuine weapon.

“Ain’t he cute? I named him Mini-Cu,” Da Vinci smiled. “Take good care of him, will you? I made him just for you, y’know.”

“Um… What is this supposed to be? A good luck charm?” the little girl wondered perplexedly, examining the toy from various angles.

“If that’s what you want to think he is, then that’s fine by me. I prefer to think of him as a guardian.”

“Hm… I think I’m a little too old for this… But if it’s a gift from you, then I’ll accept it.”

“Good. A genius never takes rejection very well. He’ll keep you safe from danger, no matter what.”

Connla wasn’t convinced that a plush doll could do such a thing, but she kept those concerns to herself and laid down on the examining table.

“Are we ready?” Roman asked. He prepared her for the scan, then said, “Just take some deep breaths and relax. It might be a bit scary because it’s so confining, so you can close your eyes if you want. Just try to stay as still as possible.”

“Okay.”

She held Mini-Cu close to her chest and followed the doctor’s instructions, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on her breathing. She kept as still as possible out of fear that she would bump into the sides of the tube, which would then only remind her of how scary it was. It felt like an eternity, but soon enough she felt the bed slide back out, and Da Vinci said in her chirpy voice, “There! All done!”

Connla exhaled a long breath and gasped in relief, glad that it was finally over. The inventor asked, “See? That wasn’t too bad, huh?”

“I hope I don’t have to do that again.”

“That depends on what Roman finds. We’ll let you know if we see anything out of the ordinary, okay?”

“Mm,” the girl mumbled and eagerly left the medical ward, carrying Mini-Cu with her.

Da Vinci watched her leave, then thought, _Good. Everything’s in place now._

* * *

The following day, Connla’s scans were ready for Roman, Da Vinci and Babbage to examine. Da Vinci already snuck a peek at the results, and the others noticed by how unusually quiet she was, meaning she had found something out of the ordinary. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to show them, but after hesitating for a short while, she relented and said, “I’m not sure what to make of this, but, well… Here we go.”

She stuck the scans on the glowing whiteboard. The typically carefree Roman suddenly widened his eyes as he uttered, “What in the world?”

No one else could believe what they were seeing either. Visible on all angles of Connla’s MRI scans were various magic sigils etched directly onto various areas of her brain. There was particular emphasis on the left hemisphere of the cerebellum, which controlled functions like speech, comprehension, arithmetic and writing, although the right hemisphere had some symbols attached as well. Her brain had practically become a canvas for these markings to be drawn directly on. The rest of her body looked to be normal.

“Do you know what these symbols are supposed to be, Roman?” Da Vinci asked.

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “I never thought I’d see something like this.”

“What an unnatural sight to behold,” Babbage said. “Yet I get the distinct feeling that I have witnessed those same patterns before.”

“Where!?” Roman exclaimed.

“Give me a moment. Hm… Mmm…”

After a long pause, Babbage remarked, “Oh, now I recall. Master has often partnered me with fellow Casters, one of them being Cuchulainn. I have seen him use those sigils as part of his spells.”

“Runecraft, huh? No choice but to call him here and get his opinion,” Roman said and called over the Caster version of Cuchulainn on the intercom. The group anxiously waited for his arrival.

Soon enough, the blue-garbed druid entered the office and asked, “What’s going on? You all look so serious.”

“We need your professional opinion on something we found inside Connla,” Babbage said.

“Connla?” Cuchulainn narrowed his eyes. During their time together in Chaldea, he would occasionally teach her some basic Rune combinations, but he wasn’t around her as much as his Lancer and Berserker versions were. He knew of everything that had happened to her up to this point however, so he wasn’t entirely oblivious of her poor condition.

Roman pointed to the whiteboard and said, “These look like the same Runes that you use. Do you know what this pattern is supposed to be?”

Cuchulainn carefully examined the images. Soon enough, his expression turned grim as he pieced together what he was seeing.

“I don’t believe this…” he murmured in horror. “There’s no mistaking it – Aife did this to her.”

“What’s the matter?” Da Vinci asked.

“These Runes… They’re designed to enhance a person’s intellect. Some druids and scholars use them to help improve their studies. However, such Runecraft should never be used on a child, or else it could drastically change their personality and cause irreversible mental disorders.”

“So Connla’s mental growth isn’t natural. Just as Babbage suspected.”

“Also, this formation… My god! I can’t believe I’m seeing this!” Cuchulainn’s skin seemed to lose its color.

“Stop speaking in hushed riddles and tell us already!” Roman demanded.

“Ugh… This pattern not only alters her intellect, but also makes it so that she _has_ to continuously study and keep her mind sharp. Think of it as a drug that she’s become addicted to. If she doesn’t do anything to improve her intelligence, she’ll suffer from withdrawal symptoms and lose all of her energy. She could have trouble sleeping, or suffer from terrible nightmares all the time.”

“She mentioned that she’s been having some crazy dreams lately. So that’s an effect of the Runes punishing her for not studying hard enough?”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s not good,” Da Vinci frowned. “Her effectiveness as a Servant could be dramatically reduced if we don’t do something about this. Unfortunately, even though I’m a Caster, I have no knowledge of Celtic Runes.”

“Likewise,” Babbage added.

“If my teacher was here, she would be able to fix this,” Cuchulainn said. “Oh well, guess I’m the next best person for this job. I’m not experienced enough to actually remove the Runes without causing permanent brain damage, but I can at least reduce their effects so Connla can live a more normal life. From now on though, she would have to see me for regular treatment since my spells don’t last forever.”

“Excellent. Please do that for her. I’ll talk with Ritsuka about trying to summon Scathach,” Da Vinci said.

Roman became pensive and asked, “Why in the world would her mother do such a thing to her?”

Cuchulainn explained, “Alter told me about what happened with Aife in that little incident. I can see her mistreating Connla like this no problem, as just another way of getting back at me for defeating her and making her pregnant when she didn’t want to be a mother.”

“Oh, right. Aife only saw Connla as a replacement for you and felt she had the right to abuse her. But what’s the point of putting these Runes directly on Connla’s brain?”

“I would assume she didn’t want to deal with raising a child the normal way. With these Runes, Connla’s mind matured at an unnaturally rapid pace, thereby eliminating the concept of a ‘childhood’. This must be why she acts so much like an adult even though she hasn’t even reached her teenaged years yet. It’s also how she could learn the art of war from Aife, and how to fight from Scathach. I guess this also explains why it took me a whole day to defeat Connla in that fateful battle.”

“That’s terrible…”

“Yeah. Everything stems back to my encounter with Aife. I was a really stupid kid who saw her as a fine woman, and that she could be the mother of the next Hound of Ulster. I assumed she would take good care of the kid while I was busy protecting my homeland. I never considered how she felt about the whole thing. But because I was too strong for Aife to defeat in battle, she took out her frustrations on Connla and used her in her plot for revenge against me. Believe me, I feel guilty as all hell for everything the poor kid had to go through because I was such an immature little shit.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Roman assured. “Connla doesn’t blame you for any of this. Knowing her, she’d just say ‘that’s just how life goes’, right?”

“Damn it. No wonder Alter is so attached to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“If my normal self is a friendly but irresponsible dumbass who looks for good fights and chases after women, what do you think the inverse of that would be?”

“Well, I would say someone who isn’t interested in fighting or women, but is much more responsible towards the ones he cares for, although that number of people can only be counted on one hand.”

“Exactly,” Cuchulainn nodded. “I’d say it only applies to Master and Connla, but he’ll go out of his way to protect them no matter what, mostly out of a sense of duty as a Servant and father. Now that he knows how Aife treated the kid, it’s only reinforced his desire to make sure she’s safe. We all have to do what we can to make sure Connla is at ease, or else Alter might explode with rage.”

“Heh heh. So you’re taking care of this little problem to save your own skin?” Roman chuckled.

“Maybe…” the hesitant Caster couldn’t deny it. “Still, this is one more piece of bad news he isn’t going to like. Should we keep this hidden from him?”

“Ugh… As much as I would like to, I think it’s better to be straight about it with him. He’ll figure out that we’re trying to hide something from him, which will only make him angrier. Thing is, no one has seen hide or hair of him lately.”

“That’s odd. Where could he have gone off to?”

In the corner of the lab, Da Vinci could hear their conversation. She let slip a coy smile, but said nothing to them.

* * *

While Cuchulainn and Roman were discussing Connla’s condition, Babbage left them be and headed for the Regal Lounge. This was an area dedicated to Servants who were born into royalty, and their expectations dictated that Chaldea’s recreational facilities fit the ridiculously high standards that kings and emperors were known for having. It was so high-class that Servants born in lower socioeconomic levels dared not venture here carelessly lest they face the ire of their more arrogant, well-bred brethren. Only well-known faces like Romulus, Nero, Ozymandias, Artoria Pendragon, Iskandar, Caesar and the like were allowed here, as if they were part of some exclusive club. If any other Servants were able to come, it would have to be while they were tending to their rulers’ needs.

Babbage ignored those so-called ‘rules’ and ventured into the lounge anyway. He was regarded as one of the ‘kings’ of the modern era anyway, so most old-world rulers didn’t mind his presence so much. A velvet carpet covered the entire floor, and there were rows of polished wooden tables and comfortable sofas lined everywhere. A bar was always open for service, with dedicated bartenders tending to the Servants’ every whims. A huge window overlooked the North Pole’s arctic heights. Since it was almost never sunny in this part of the world, numerous lamps and chandeliers always illuminated the lounge with soft lights.

Babbage found Gilgamesh reclining at the window, cupping a glass of wine in his hand as he languidly stared at the falling snow. The King of Heroes gazed over at the approaching robot Servant and muttered, “What do you want, mongrel?”

“I have come to report on the results you were searching for.”

“Hmph. Took you long enough. And?”

“Your suspicions were correct. To make a long story short, the Child of Cuchulainn’s mature behavior has been forced upon her. No one ever knew because that knowledge was lost to history.”

“Naturally,” Gilgamesh muttered and drank his wine. “There’s no way an underage runt like her can philosophize on our level without some kind of artificial enhancement.”

“So it would seem. If I may be so bold as to ask, what has inspired you to pursue such issues when you have no direct connection with that Servant? From my basic understanding, you are not the type to concern yourself with others unless there is visible benefit for yourself.”

“That’s not for you to know. All I wanted was proof that her behavior is not normal. What I do with that information will be up to me.”

“I see. Is the result of my investigation satisfactory enough for you?”

“It is. Now, as I promised…”

Gilgamesh raised a hand, commanding a golden portal to open up and let an old book slide through onto his palm. “The original copy of Diophantus’ _Arithmetica_.”

Babbage’s red eye glowed intensely as he took the ancient book with the same excitement as a child finding a rare toy. “Much appreciated. I almost feel guilty taking such a priceless artifact of mathematics from you.”

“Spare me, mongrel. That thing was just taking up space when I could have occupied it with better things. Well, I admit that value really is in the eye of the beholder, but I fail to see what possessed me to take such an object.”

“Hm. I assure you, your fleeting curiosity was not a waste. Now, allow me to depart so that I may thoroughly analyze its contents.”

“Fine. I grow tired of this conversation anyway.”


	4. Meeting of the Sons

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 4: Meeting of the Sons**

After he was finished speaking with Roman, Cuchulainn Caster found Connla reading a book in the public campus, where staff and Servants could interact with each other. The Mini-Cu doll sat next to her, practically guarding her from any unwanted company with its adorably mean glare. The druid solemnly approached her, finding it difficult to muster the courage to tell her what happened.

“Father?” Connla looked up at him curiously. “Is something the matter? You look really serious.”

He shifted his eyes away from hers, unable to look at those innocent brown pupils straight on. He huffed in resignation, then sat down next to her and said, “Roman told me the results of your scans.”

“Did he? What did he find?”

“Well… the thing is…” Cuchulainn shuddered. “It might be difficult for you to understand, but… There’s something inside you that shouldn’t be there…”

She stared at him with a hollow expression. She realized that he was having trouble saying what it was, meaning this discovery had to have been devastating for him to comprehend. Her eyes became heavy as she asked him, “Is it something that Mother did to me?”

“Uh!?” he gasped. That reaction alone was enough to tell her everything. He clenched his teeth and moaned, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. I know the truth now. Anything she did to me without my knowledge will just confirm how much she hated me. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I’ll ask Dr. Roman or Ms. Da Vinci later.”

“No. I have an obligation to tell you. It’s the least I can do for not being there when you needed me.”

“Father…”

Connla became silent and patiently listened to everything Cuchulainn told her. He went into great detail about the Runes on her brain and what they were doing to dramatically change her personality and intellect. After he finished, he held her close and said, “It’s gonna be okay. Until Master can summon Scathach, I’ll do what I can to lessen their effects so you can function normally. Just sit still and let me examine you.”

“Mm,” she murmured and leaned her head against his chest so he could use his Runecraft on her. She couldn’t feel anything at first, but soon her energy levels started to improve. After he was finished, she felt like she could run around all day and not get worn out. She blinked in surprise and said, “Wow… No wonder I was so tired all the time. The Runes were draining my energy?”

“It’s not a permanent fix, but as long as I do this regularly, you should be fine,” Cuchulainn explained. “I’m just hoping that once Master summons Scathach, she’ll have a better solution that will cure you.”

Connla nodded. “This will be a great help for Master. I can help her farm more Embers without exhausting myself so much.”

“Good,” he smiled lightly and rubbed her head. “I’m just glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but…” He became somber again. “Even though I had to protect Ulster from Connacht’s forces, I could have at least brought you home with me. Then you could have been surrounded by people who actually loved you, like my wife Emer, or King Conchobhar and the Red Branch Army, or the boys training to be soldiers…”

“Stop it.”

Cuchulainn’s eyes widened in surprise from Connla’s firm reaction. Her expression became rigid as she declared, “I don’t like dwelling on what-ifs and ‘what could’ve been’. What’s done is done, and we just have to deal with it. You might think you neglected me, but I know fully well that you were fighting to protect your country as a one-man army. That’s the kind of hero I always wanted to meet when I grew up. It made me happier to know that I was the child of such an amazing man. You have no idea how excited I was when Mother finally gave me her blessing to leave Scotland in search of you. It’s unfortunate that our meeting didn’t go as well as I had hoped, but you acknowledged me as your ‘son’ in the end. That alone fulfilled me, so I could die happy.”

“Connla…”

Cuchulainn sighed deeply, then wrapped his arms around her. They remained like this for a minute or so, allowing the emotions between them to do the talking. No amount of words could describe this wonderful feeling of him earning her forgiveness, and at the same time how glad she was to be allied with him in this new life as a Servant. They had the freedom to live out the dream that they couldn’t while they were alive. Even if they had numerous issues surrounding them that would occur one after the other, they would overcome them together. It was bizarre how Connla was surrounded by three radically different versions of Cuchulainn, but they all possessed the same heart, so she essentially treated them as the same man.

While father and daughter were engrossed in this sentimental moment, one of the Servants sitting at a table in the corner witnessed the exchange and observed them silently. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could tell that it was a very serious moment for them. While munching on a sandwich, she paused in mid-chew when Cuchulainn and Connla leaned in to hug each other. She wasn’t sure what to think of this scene. She wanted to tell them to take it somewhere else, yet it was so charming that she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt them.

_What is this? Am I actually getting… jealous?_

She scoffed at her own uncertainty and decided to go back to her room without saying anything. Before leaving however, she took a good long look at Connla and narrowed her eyes.

_If I remember right, that’s the kid who beat up Lancelot. I wonder how a puny shrimp like her was capable of defeating one of the strongest Knights of the Round Table on her own… and a Berserker version of him, no less! If I had known that skirt chaser would show up, I would’ve been glad to show him his place. Maybe I should ask her if there’s a way to get him to appear again. If I could pound Lancelot into the ground myself, Father might actually recognize my strength for once!_

The giddy Servant smirked to herself, then departed without Cuchulainn and Connla noticing as they concluded their conversation. The young Lancer got up and said, “Thank you for telling me everything, Father. I know it’s going to be hard, but let’s keep going from here for Master’s sake.”

“Right,” Cuchulainn nodded. He noticed the Mini-Cu doll that she almost left behind and called out, “Hey!”

He tossed it to her, then said, “Keep that little guy with you at all times.”

“But it’s just a toy,” she muttered bewilderedly.

“Oh, you never know. Good things may happen if you have him by your side.”

“Okay…”

She left to go do chores for the staff members, and Cuchulainn reclined on the sofa while letting out a groan of sheer relief. She had taken the news a lot better than he did, which greatly assured him. He really underestimated how mature she had become, regardless if it was an effect of the Runes. All he could do was give her any support that he was able to, though he couldn’t be by her side constantly.

_Ah, that was exhausting. I should hang out at the bar for a bit, then call it a day. I’m sure the kid won’t run into any trouble, but if she does…_

He suppressed a chuckle.

_I can always leave it to him._

* * *

After Connla finished running around helping the staff members with their duties, she returned to her room and changed into her nightgown. Thanks to Cuchulainn Caster’s treatment, she had a lot more energy than usual and could dash all around Chaldea’s massive facility delivering papers to each department without getting tired too quickly. Everyone always relied on her to act as a delivery girl due to her being one of the fastest Servants among all of Ritsuka’s Heroic Spirits, and she was happy to get the job done.

All the while, Connla attached Mini-Cu to her back so that his arms and legs wrapped around her armpits, making him resemble a backpack. Anyone who saw them like this found them to be a ridiculously cute pair. Medb was utterly hopeless when she saw Connla, and it took a good hour of several Servants trying to pry the ecstatic queen off the girl so she could be on her way. After that hassle, Connla opted to turn in for the evening. It was best to replenish her mana with sleep rather than draining Ritsuka’s prana or making her use Command Spells. She believed such resources should be better spent on her Master’s much stronger Servants rather than a low-level apprentice like her.

The little girl placed Mini-Cu on the dresser and muttered to herself, “I still don’t understand why everyone wants me to carry this thing around everywhere. How can a plushie be any good at being a guardian?”

She walked over to her bed, which was on the opposite side of the room, and tucked herself beneath the blankets before eventually falling asleep. Although she had some strange dreams, they were nothing like the one she had while she was in her coma. The next morning, she was able to wake up refreshed and ready for the new day. She yawned, stretched, then rubbed her eyes and slowly opened them…

“Wha-!?”

Meeting Connla’s gaze was none other than Mini-Cu. Somehow, he had made his way from the other side of the room, climbed up the side of the bed, and laid right next to her on the pillow. She never heard anything about dolls moving on their own, and the plushie certainly showed no signs of movement.

“W-What the…?” she uttered. Any sleepiness she still felt had been shocked out of her. She looked around for anything suspicious, but her room was as clean today as it was yesterday. She thought that maybe someone snuck a duplicate doll for her as a gift, but there really was only one Mini-Cu in the room. She scrambled out of her bed and examined the door’s entry log to see if anyone had come in during the night. The records showed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Uh… M-Maybe I was sleepwalking? That must be it. Maybe Caster treating my Runes had some unusual side-effects…”

Connla convinced herself with that and decided to leave the matter be, lest she wind up weirding herself out any further. She got dressed, equipped Mini-Cu as a backpack again, then left to see about doing some more studying.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Connla went to see if the kitchen staff needed any help. Although there was a dedicated team of cooks and part-time helpers among the staff, there was always a demand for people to prepare vegetables. She spent a couple of hours peeling carrots, then the matronly Servant Boudica cooked up a sumptuous plate of roasted meat and simmered vegetables as Connla’s dinner. After the girl finished up, she took her tray to the mess hall and began eating.

Although Connla didn’t pay much attention to Servants she wasn’t familiar with, she noticed that a blonde-haired Saber was steadily approaching her table with a large helping of her own food. She wasn’t too much taller than the Lancer, and she wore red clothing consisting of detached sleeves, a bandeau, a tabard over her waist, and black thigh-length stockings with red ankle boots. Connla knew who this was – Mordred, the ‘son’ of King Arthur who had been a Knight of the Round Table, and was the one responsible for leading Camelot to its demise with the legendary Battle of Camlann.

_Uh oh. Is she… coming this way?_

Connla swallowed nervously and struggled to keep her composure. She was aware of Mordred’s short temper and boastful attitude, especially when the topic concerned King Arthur, and she wasn’t sure if she could hold a conversation without inciting the infamous Knight of Treachery. Mordred raised an eyebrow when she saw Connla looking away timidly and boldly asked, “What’s wrong? Scared of me?”

“Um…”

“Well, you have every right to be considering how I’m such a powerful Saber, but stop freaking out and relax. Since you’re not running around being everyone’s doormat right now, I wanna ask you a few questions. Can I sit next to you?”

“… Sure.”

Mordred took a seat next to Connla and casually munched away on a burger while saying, “Word’s been going around about how you defeated Lancelot. Is that true? Did a little kid like you really beat up that backstabbing lech?”

“Backstabbing…? Oh, that’s right. You and Sir Lancelot are Knights of the Round Table. I should’ve realized that you’d be curious.”

“Of course I would be! Not many people can boast about defeating him! Well he’s a walk in the park for me, but that’s because I’m on a totally different level than your average Servant! How’d you manage to do it?”

Connla bashfully fiddled with Mini-Cu’s arms and muttered, “To be honest, I can’t really take credit. It was Ms. Da Vinci’s quick thinking in using my Bloodstone’s Command Spells that gave me the strength to win. If anything, I think she deserves the real praise for that incident.”

“You’ve gotta be joking!” Mordred exclaimed. “That woman’s ego is inflated enough as it is! You don’t need to brown-nose someone like that!”

“But I wasn’t-“

“If you’re gonna go around complimenting a cocky bimbo like her for defeating motherfucking _Lancelot_ , then you need a lesson in confidence! _You’re_ the one who sent him packing! Hold your head up high and proclaim your victory!”

“Um… I don’t really need to…”

“Gah, that kind of attitude drives me crazy! Makes me think of that miserable woman Guinevere!”

“Guinevere…” Connla moaned forlornly, hugging Mini-Cu close to her chest. “Actually, the queen is the whole reason Lancelot attacked me…”

“What, really!? Why would he do that!?”

“I don’t really understand it myself. Something about how depressed I was reminding him of how sorrowful she was, and how he wanted to change the past so that he would never cause Camelot to fall to ruin.”

Mordred couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What a load of bull! That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard of! He sounds exactly like Father and how he once wanted to use the Holy Grail to prevent Britain’s demise! I never thought I’d be surrounded by such halfhearted simpletons! No wonder I had such an easy time rebelling against Father!”

Connla didn’t know what to say. She had a hard time understanding how Mordred could be so confident about doing something as reprehensible as destroying such a great kingdom. Yet at the same time, she recalled the feeling she experienced regarding how lonely Guinevere must have been, being forced to play the role of a queen when her king’s love would never be reciprocated, all to maintain the grand stage known as Camelot. Considering how there were so many tragic factors going on behind the scenes, perhaps Mordred’s role in the kingdom’s demise was inevitable.

“Say,” the knight said, “think you could tell me more about that battle?”

“Why?”

“Why? Well… To find out a weakness or two about Lancelot,” Mordred mumbled. She didn’t want to openly admit that she was interested in the little girl’s combat capabilities.

“But you just said he’d be a walk in the park for you,” Connla reminded her. “Why would you want to know his weaknesses if he’s that easy for you?”

“Never mind that! Just tell me what you did to make him appear!”

“Uh… I didn’t really ‘do’ anything. He was just… there.”

“You mean he just showed up out of nowhere? Poof, there he was?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t summon him by mistake, did you?”

“How could I? Except for some Casters, Servants can’t summon other Servants. I certainly can’t, at the very least.”

“Shit,” Mordred scratched her head. “That’s just way too weird. So there was no way anyone could summon him, and yet he showed up. On top of that, he manifested as a Berserker and attacked a little kid who had no connection to him, all because you reminded him of that two-timing queen. There _has_ to be an explanation for this!”

“I wish I knew what it was. I really, really do, Ms. Mordred,” Connla frowned.

“Hey,” the knight’s attitude suddenly turned sour. “That’s _Sir_ Mordred to you, kid.”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, Sir Mordred! I didn’t realize you were sensitive about such things!”

“Fine, but don’t let me catch you treating me like a woman again.”

“Okay…”

They continued eating, but the atmosphere between them was uneasy thanks to Mordred’s foul mood. She wasn’t nervous like Connla was however, and she muttered, “Is that the first time this has happened?”

“Hmm…” the young Lancer hummed, thinking of any similar incidents. “Now that I think about it, there was the time when my mother was summoned as a wraith. We never did find out who or what was responsible for her appearing.”

“You don’t think it was Solomon, do you?”

“I can’t say for sure. There were no signs of a Demon God or a false Holy Grail from either battle, so I honestly don’t think it was him.”

“So you’re suggesting that someone else is behind all of this.”

“Maybe.”

Mordred closed her eyes and sighed. She wanted to see if she could fight Lancelot herself to prove her worthiness to Arthur, but her interrogation wasn’t turning up anything useful. Even so, her lips curled into a smile, expanding into a grin as she said, “Strong opponents appearing from out of nowhere, huh? Not only that, but they’re only going after you. Heh heh, sounds like something I could use to hone my skills.”

“Huh?” Connla tilted her head in confusion.

“It’s decided!” the knight smacked her hand against the child’s back and exclaimed, “If you plan on Rayshifting anywhere, make sure to let me know! If anyone pops up to give you a hard time, I’ll beat them up faster than you can blink!”

“Uh… W-What’s gotten into you, Sir Mordred? We barely know each other, and you want to accompany me on missions already?”

“We have the same Master, don’t we!? That’s good enough for me!”

“That’s true, but-”

“Stop being so nervous! We’re allies, aren’t we!?”

“I know. It’s just that I’m not used to being around people with a disposition like yours,” Connla uttered, trying to explain how she felt about Mordred’s short temper without upsetting her further. “Besides, I think my nervous attitude might wind up frustrating you in the long run.”

“Huh,” Mordred muttered, realizing that she had a point. “Guess it’s not so easy for you to make friends, is it?”

“No. I never really hung out with anyone my age during my lifetime.”

“I guess I know the feeling. My twisted birth caused me to be jealous of normal people, so I wound up distancing myself from everyone while worshipping Arthur as the perfect king. What a waste…”

They paused, unsure of how to solidify the shaky bridge between them. After some thinking, Mordred realized that while her own legend was famous enough to not even need an explanation, she didn’t know anything about Connla’s history. All she was aware of was that she was a Lancer, and that she had some kind of connection with Cuchulainn. If Mordred intended to follow the girl around, she at least wanted to know where the child came from.

“I know!” the Saber exclaimed suddenly. “The open-air bath will be the perfect place for us to chat!”

The child Servant suddenly grew anxious. “The bath!? I, uh-!”

“Come on!” the teenager urged and grabbed Connla’s wrist, forcing her to follow her to the women’s bath. As they departed, Cuchulainn Lancer wandered in while boredly picking his teeth with a toothpick. He saw the two girls running the opposite direction, and he grew concerned when he noticed his daughter’s alarmed expression.

* * *

In the women’s bath, Mordred had already changed into a plain red bikini and stepped into the warm water. The soothing sensation crept up her leg and worked its way through her entire body, massaging her uptight nerves so they relaxed on their own.

“Ahhh… Now _this_ is what heaven should be like,” she exhaled and sat within the water. She looked back and called out, “Hey! What are you dawdling around for!? Hurry up and get in here!”

“I’m coming!” Connla’s voice cried out from the change room, and the young girl hurried through the doors. She kept a thick towel completely wrapped around her shoulders. It was long enough to crumple upon the floor, so Mordred wasn’t able to even see her comrade’s feet.

“What’s the matter? You think I’m gonna make fun of you or something?” the teenager goaded.

“No, that’s not it. I just… feel more comfortable like this,” Connla replied.

“Whatever. Hop in already, slowpoke! We’ve got a lot to discuss!”

“Right.”

Connla was about to step into the water, but then Mordred suddenly shouted, “Stop! Stop right there!”

“… Yes?”

The knight burst out of the bath and approached her timid partner. She tightly clutched the towel and exclaimed, “Who on Earth bathes while hiding themselves like that!? Come on, take that thing off already!”

“N-No, just a-!”

Mordred ripped the cloth off of Connla and tossed it aside. At first, Mordred was eager to drag Connla into the bath and have some fun with her. However, that jovial mood immediately changed into repressed shock.

“What… the hell…?”

Mordred had now become privy to the hundreds of scars covering Connla’s body. From her shoulders all the way down to her lower legs, her whiplashes, brandings, lacerations, and old bruises were fully exposed for the knight to see. An immense silence surrounded them, accentuated only by the rippling water in the tub that soon became still.

“Hey,” Mordred murmured. Her heart seized up. She was familiar with emotions like joy and anger; delight and resentment; admiration and disgust. She didn’t know what this new feeling was however. Some kind of disgust, for sure, but it wasn’t directed toward Connla. What was Mordred experiencing? Sadness? Pity? Revulsion? She had no idea how to explain it.

Connla was unable to speak. She was both extremely embarrassed and upset over someone she just met witnessing such a private matter well before they could get to know each other better. She shivered uncontrollably and clutched her arms, staring down at her feet while keeping her lips tightly shut.

Soon, Mordred wondered, “What happened to you?”

“…”

“How many battles did you have to fight… to get so many scars?”

“…”

Then Cuchulainn Lancer’s voice broke through the uneasy stillness as he said, “Those aren’t from battles.”

Mordred looked up to find him stepping through the entrance to the women’s bath. Under normal circumstances, she would have been incredibly furious for allowing a male to see her in nothing but her swimsuit, exposing her femininity when she normally kept it concealed beneath her heavy armor. Right now though, she was so overcome with surprise that such petty matters were meaningless.

Cuchulainn took the towel that Mordred ripped off of Connla and wrapped it around his daughter’s shoulders, then held her close to help her calm down while whispering, “Why didn’t you say anything? If she was bullying you, you should’ve come to me right away.”

“…”

“Did she force you?”

“…”

He rubbed her head and murmured, “Well whatever. Come on. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Mordred had a hard time processing what was going on. She interjected, “What do you mean ‘those aren’t from battles’?”

Cuchulainn scowled. “Your mother isn’t the only one who can be considered a witch toward her own child.”

She was surprised that her mother Morgan would come up in this conversation. She became pensive and muttered, “Then…?”

“Yeah. For six long years, her mother resented me for taking away her freedom to be a woman. So she took the child born from our brief union and used her as a replacement for me, giving herself the right to lash out and abuse her while lying to her, saying that it was all ‘to make her strong’. The child took all of the pain and misery without shedding a tear or crying for help.

“Then when the child turned seven, her mother put three geasa on her, saying they were for her benefit. However, they were designed to be a trap so that the child would face her father in battle. After an intense day of combat, he had no choice but to strike the child down. Because she was forbidden from saying her name, her father didn’t know who he was fighting until she showed him the ring he left for her to wear. That’s when he knew he had murdered his own child. Her mother’s revenge was complete; regardless of who won or lost, she made the man suffer for scorning her.”

“You’re kidding. If you’re really Cuchulainn, then Connla is…”

With a stern glare, he declared, “Yeah. This kid is the ‘son’ I killed by mistake.”

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t think straight anymore. The parallels between herself and Connla were so similar that she was struck with momentary amazement.

He murmured, “Think you could do a favor for me?”

“What?”

“Don’t tell anyone else what you saw. She’s already distressed enough from her mother thoroughly rejecting her. I don’t want her scars to become a topic of gossip around Chaldea.”

“Sure. I get it.”

With that said, Cuchulainn left to bring Connla to her room, making sure she was fully covered with the towel so no one else would see her. Mordred caught a passing glimpse of Connla’s empty eyes before the pair departed, leaving her alone in the bath. After taking some time to sort herself out, she let out a derisive scoff.

“Ridiculous.”


	5. A Faraway Snowscape

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 5: A Faraway Snowscape**

Two days later, Mordred returned from a mission with Ritsuka and headed toward the mess hall to get something to eat. Along the way though, she passed by Connla’s room and paused for a moment. Seeing the child’s numerous scars, along with Cuchulainn’s tale, continued to bother her even though she tried her hardest to put it out of her mind. Mordred wasn’t sure if she had any right to be near Connla anymore considering how abrasive she had been toward her.

Before Mordred could take off though, the door slid open and Connla stepped through, carrying Mini-Cu on her back as usual. The young Lancer stared at the Saber, then asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Uh…” the knight uttered awkwardly, then coughed a couple of times to regain her composure. If she wanted to apologize, now was the best time to do it rather than leave it to linger. Mordred scratched her head and blushed profusely, then muttered, “Look, about that day… Well… That was my bad. I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t know. It’s my fault for not saying anything,” Connla shook her head.

“But you didn’t want anyone finding out about those injuries, right? That’s precisely why you kept your mouth shut.”

“Hm… I just… Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“I get it. Those marks represent the mistake you made of obeying that self-absorbed wench of a mother, right? You always keep them covered so that you don’t have to think about her.”

Connla blinked. She was bewildered that Mordred figured her out so easily. All she could do was lightly nod in response.

“Don’t worry about it!” the knight playfully tousled the girl’s hair. “It’s a kid’s duty to do what their parents say until they’re old enough to think for themselves. It sucks that not all parents have our well-being in mind, but that’s just how things go for us children of famous heroes, yeah? We either carve our own legends, or become a tragic part of their tale. Always has been, always will be.”

“Mm.”

“Good! Glad that’s taken care of! So, what are you up to?”

“I was going to see if Ms. Da Vinci needed any assistance with the THREAD project.”

“THREAD? I kind of heard rumors going around about it. What is it supposed to be exactly?”

“Basically, it’s a way for Servants to independently Rayshift on their own without having to be accompanied by Master at all times.”

“No way! How is that possible!?” the teenager scoffed.

“It’s only in the testing phase, but I’ve done it three times already.”

“Really!? You, all by yourself!? Without Master going with you!?”

“Yes. I was alone the first and third time, and I went with Queen Medb the second time. Actually, the third time was when I fought Lancelot in the pre-Camelot era.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Mordred shouted and threw her arms about incredulously. It wasn’t really a command, but rather a cry of bewilderment. “Why didn’t you say anything about it to me!? Holy shit, can you imagine it!? Me, going on Rayshifts whenever I felt like it! I can pummel our enemies into dust any time I wanted to! Do you know how bored I am, constantly being cooped up in this place with nothing to fight!? Not even the simulator is doing it for me anymore!”

“S-Sir Mordred, please. The project is only in its beta phase, so just using it all willy-nilly might wind up being dangerous,” Connla tried to settle the excited teenager down.

“Oh, please! What’s life without a little risk! Tell me all about it so I can harass the hag about letting me Rayshift on my own!”

Connla sighed and scratched her head, feeling at a loss about how to calm the rambunctious knight. She decided to satisfy her curiosity with a thorough explanation, then let Da Vinci sort out the rest with Mordred. The Lancer told her ally everything she needed to know, along with brief details of what happened during the three Rayshifts.

“A Bloodstone… A mana crystal infused with Master’s blood, huh?” Mordred mumbled. “Sounds like the kind of creepy shit that Merlin would be in to. That kind of hocus pocus is beyond me – all that matters is that it works.”

“Da Vinci had the theory in her head. All I did was help her prove the concept. There still needs to be further testing done, but she thinks it’s almost ready for several Servants of her choosing to be her next volunteers.”

“Ooh, am I one of them!?”

“I don’t know. Her list is top secret.”

“Then I’ll _make_ myself a volunteer, whether she likes it or not!”

Connla brought the exhilarated Mordred to Da Vinci’s workshop, then announced to the inventor, “I’m here. I’ve brought someone who’s interested in the THREAD project as w-“

“Hey, hag! Hook me up with one of those Bloodstones pronto!” Mordred demanded callously. Connla cringed at her brusque behavior and warily stepped aside.

“Oh, ho!” Da Vinci grinned, unperturbed by the knight’s rudeness. “Did my cute little apprentice spill the beans?”

“You bet she did! She said you have several Servants in mind to be your next test subjects! If I’m not one of them, I am now!”

“Goodness, what a pickle I’m in. I already had some more skilled Sabers in mind like Siegfried, Chevalier and Artoria.”

“Uh oh…” Connla winced. She knew what was coming next and excused herself to the opposite corner of the workshop.

Mordred emphatically stomped her foot and cried out, “Father!? _You picked **Father** over me!?_ What are you, some kind of imbecile!? Are you saying that I’m not good enough for the job!?”

“Well, it’s not just a matter of fighting prowess,” Da Vinci calmly explained. “There also needs to be a level of professionalism in performing thorough missions and writing concise reports for me to analyze.”

“The hell!? I’m always thorough and professional in my work! Anyone who dissented against Father would meet their end at my hand! That kind of dedication simply can’t be matched!”

“Yes, I can see how enthusiastic you are, but executing common rebels isn’t the same as exploring unknown worlds and correcting lesser incidents before they can become full-blown Singularities. If I’m to allow Ritsuka’s Servants to utilize THREAD on a regular basis, I need to make sure that all of the I’s are dotted and the T’s crossed before giving the okay. That’s why I need reports, recordings and notes on every single thing that happens, no matter how minor or insignificant it may be. You think you have the stomach to handle such boring paperwork?”

“Ugh…” the knight’s face wrinkled with disgust. Then her expression lit up as she exclaimed, “I know! I’ll have Connla deal with all of that!”

“Hey, don’t rope me into this!” the little girl objected.

Da Vinci laughed heartily and said, “Well, well! That’s what I call using your noggin’!”

“Right!?” Mordred grinned.

“Don’t just agree among yourselves!” Connla shouted. “Why are you dragging me into this conversation!?”

“Oh, come now. Why don’t you go with her anyway?” the inventor asked. “You have more field experience, and you really are good at writing the reports. You take care of that, and Mordred can beat up the monsters for you. Besides, I’m worried about your health always taking a turn for the worse whenever you venture out. I’d feel much more assured if you had a capable warrior accompanying you.”

“Well… I guess that’s true. But what about Cuchulainn Alter?”

“What about him?”

“He told me over and over again that I should ask for his permission before going on a mission without him, but I haven’t seen him at all for the last while.”

“Ah, that reminds me!” Da Vinci perked up and shuffled her hands all over her messy workstation.

Meanwhile, Mordred wondered, “That’s weird. My father’s Alter version is nowhere near as protective of me. I wonder why yours is.”

Connla became pensive and said, “It’s kind of hard to explain. Alter told me that he represents the side of Cuchulainn who felt tremendously guilty for killing me back when we were alive. Normally he’s lived his life without regrets, but my death was the one thing he felt responsible for. In fact, there’s a tale of how Father’s lament was so great that King Conchobhar feared he would turn on his own comrades in a fit of rage. The king called upon the high druid Cathbad to cloak Father in an illusion, then ordered him to fight hordes of enemies that were marching in from Baile’s Strand. In reality, it was just the waves of the beach that Father savagely battled against for three consecutive days and nights until he collapsed of exhaustion.”

“Wow. Pretty deep shit there.”

“Yes. Now as a Servant, he’s punishing himself for his sin by covering his entire body in numerous curses that grant him incredible power at the cost of him feeling excruciating pain. He even subjected himself to Madness Enhancement so he could appear as a Berserker. I really wish he didn’t do this to himself for my sake, but he told me that it’s his penance for robbing me of the future I deserved.”

“That’s just messed up. Completely and totally messed up.”

“Mm…” After recalling that story, Connla started to feel uneasy for Cuchulainn, but convinced herself repeatedly not to let it bother her all the time.

Da Vinci continued rummaging around until she found a sealed envelope, and she passed it to Connla while saying, “Here you go. It’s a letter from him saying you can go whenever you want.”

The girl opened it and read the contents carefully, then mumbled, “Hmm… It sure looks legit.”

She shifted her eyes toward Da Vinci and grumbled, “You didn’t forge this by any chance, did you?”

Rather than be put off by her suspicion, the inventor chuckled and remarked, “What an active imagination you have! Honestly, now. What benefit would there be for me to do such silly things?”

“That’s true. The moment Alter found out you pulled such a stunt, he’d stick your head on Gae Bolg in a heartbeat.”

“See? Common sense wins the day!”

“Yeesh,” Mordred cringed. “If he’s nice to you, what kind of guy is he to everyone else?”

“Well,” Connla murmured, then showed Mini-Cu to her. “He looks like this, but a hundred times scarier.”

The knight raised an eyebrow, curiously inspecting the doll. “The hell is he supposed to be, some kind of dinosaur?”

“No! He’s got the bones of a legendary sea monster wrapped around him as part of his punishment. He’s still the same Cuchulainn, but is a lot more bloodthirsty and apathetic.”

“So he’s a dino dog then.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean…?”

“Never mind that,” Mordred scoffed. “So you got this guy’s permission to come with me or what?”

“I guess so,” Connla shrugged. “I’d feel better asking him directly, but he’s practically vanished into thin air over the last week or so.”

Da Vinci said, “I’m sure he’d be offended if he found out you were worrying about him so much. Just leave him be and go do what you gotta do as a Servant of Chaldea.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Da Vinci brought Mordred and Connla to the Spiritron chamber and prepared one of the coffins for the duo. Connla no longer had a Bloodstone due to it being fully used up during her battle with Lancelot, so Da Vinci had another one prepared. Naturally, Mordred insisted that she became the Blood Servant so that she could have Connla follow her around. With that, Mordred was now the one in charge of the temporary Command Spells she could use on herself and her partner.

“Hwaah, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to see the dumb look on Father’s face when I tell him all about this!” Mordred squealed delightedly.

“I don’t know where you get such energy,” Connla murmured. “No matter how many times I do it, I’m still so nervous.”

“Well, with me around now, you have nothing to fear!”

“Hm…” the child mumbled, then stared into Mini-Cu’s large red eyes to distract herself from her anxiety.

 Mordred bolted in front of her and exclaimed, “Hold on, now! You’re not going to bring that ass-ugly thing with you, are ya!?”

“Why not? Everyone says I should keep it with me.”

“That’s so stupid! Kill it with fire, I say!”

“Come on now, it’s just a toy,” Da Vinci said. “This is the first time she’s ever had a doll of her own. Just leave it be and let her enjoy her hobbies, okay?”

“Ugh, fine. Just so you know, there are better toys out there than that monstrosity. Maybe when we get to London, I’ll show you around.”

“Sure,” Connla said, then looked over at Da Vinci and asked, “I know you mentioned it earlier, but our destination is where the Fourth Singularity took place, right? Master summoned me some time before the Sixth, so I don’t know what to expect with the Fourth.”

“It certainly was a crisis, let me tell you,” the inventor replied. “Sure, every Singularity has its dangers, but the Fourth is where things really started to ramp up for us. All of London was covered in a Demonic Fog, which was causing Servants to be summoned so that the enemy could rally them to their cause. On top of that, it’s where we first met our mortal enemy, Solomon, face-to-face. I’d say that’s when we all finally understood just how truly important it is for the Grand Orders to be enforced. Before, it was a credo that didn’t really mean much to most of the staff, but once Solomon showed up and nearly killed Ritsuka, that’s when everyone’s attitude changed.”

“I see. So it was the baby steps you all took toward challenging the Fifth and Sixth Singularities. Both of them must have been very unforgiving, but the Fourth opened your eyes and prepared you for the worst.”

“From what I understand, you weren’t able to go with Ritsuka during the Sixth incident.”

“Yeah. I was still too weak to be of much help for Master. But if the Singularities are exponentially escalating in severity like this, I’m scared to think of what the Seventh will bring us. Have I become capable enough to help her with what could be the most fearsome Singularity?”

“Don’t worry,” Da Vinci smiled. “You’ve come a long way since you were first summoned. At the very least, I’ve given Ritsuka my stamp of approval for you, thanks to your assistance with the THREAD program.”

“No, it’s nothing…”

Mordred exclaimed, “Hey, they’re ready for us! Stop messing around and come on already!”

“Whoops, the rebellious knight demands your presence,” the inventor winked. “Better get going before she throws a tantrum.”

Connla nodded, then rejoined her partner. The pair vanished into their spirit forms and became part of the Bloodstone. Da Vinci and her crew prepared to send them 130 years into the past. The system started up, announcing all of its parameters to be at nominal values, then counted down until the two Servants were sent falling through the familiar time tunnel.

However, something unusual began to occur. The world around them changed from a bright azure color to a strange pink-lavender hue. Although the girls couldn’t say or do anything, they understood that this phenomenon was completely out of the ordinary. They could feel their trajectory run off course from the intended destination, meaning they had no idea where or when they would end up.

* * *

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, that I shall defeat all evil in the world. Clad in the seventh heaven and the great words of power, come forth from the circle of bindings, Guardian of Scales!”

Deep within a picturesque forest covered in thick layers of pure white snow, a magic circle drew itself along the soft fluff. An unknown woman’s voice was calling out the words, yet there was no one present. Soon, the glyph shone and surrounded the landscape in a brilliant flash of aqua blue. If there had been any trespassers nearby, they would have been unable to see what was going on in the epicenter.

Emerging from the magic circle was a gallant figure, kneeling in front of a large broadsword that was planted before them. It took a moment for the summoned person to get their bearings, but soon they got to their feet and stood tall over the dimming crest, tightly brandishing the sword within their hand.

“Servant, Saber,” the mysterious woman’s voice called out. “Here you stand, summoned from the Throne. I shall bequeath upon you a great task that must be fulfilled, for the sake of all humanity. If left alone, the course of fate shall be altered to bring odious tidings upon all life equally. I beseech you, Saber; are you prepared to heed my call and carry out your duty in this world?”

“… I am,” a man’s voice responded calmly.

“Then go. Two stars of destiny shall fall upon this land soon. Find the Sons of Camelot and Ulster, and guard them with your life. Their path shall guide you to the calamity that you must defeat.”

“Understood.”

* * *

**Undocumented Disturbance – A.D. ?**

**Humanity Foundation Value: C**

**Denial of Tomorrow’s History: Brothers in Destiny**

**Fraternity of Blades and Fate**

_Two hours later…_

“Mn…”

Connla stirred awake, feeling a cold sensation chill the cheek that was resting upon the ground. The upward cheek was periodically sprinkled with something just as cold, which prompted her to wake up. She opened her eyes and looked around wearily. All she could see was a beautiful white landscape with ivory fluff dancing around in the air. There weren’t any signs of civilization nearby – just trees, bushes, and rolling hills that resembled cake frosted with smooth white fondant. This was the kind of scenery that would look perfect on a Christmas card.

The little girl wasn’t sure what to say. According to Mordred’s account of London during the Industrial Revolution, it was a booming city plagued with thick smog and underworld crime, giving it the gloomy vibe that served as the backdrop to many detective stories and _noir_ fiction. There was no way this fantastic wintry landscape matched that bleak description. Connla got to her knees and brushed off the snow that had built up on her outfit. She found Mini-Cu lying next to her, so she placed him on her back once more before looking around for Mordred. Despite the pounding headache throbbing inside her cranium, she forced herself to get up and search for her partner. After a short while, she found the knight lying face-down 100 meters away.

“Sir Mordred!” Connla exclaimed, shaking her shoulder.

“Ugh… Just five more minutes…”

“Come on, wake up already! Something’s seriously wrong here!”

“Geez, shut up already…” Mordred grumbled and opened her eyes. Her fatigue immediately disappeared when she saw the world around them, and she barked incredulously, _“What the hell!?”_

“Uh! A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Where the hell are we!?”

“That’s what I’d like to know too. Judging by your reaction, this isn’t 19th century London.”

“Like fuck it isn’t! What kind of sick prank did Da Vinci pull on us!?”

Connla summoned the large Saint Quartz-shaped device that she used to communicate with Chaldea before, and attempted to connect with the inventor to see what was going on. All she could hear was static noise, which greatly disheartened her. She moaned, “Come on, please work…”

_“Hey, answer already, you preening bimbo!”_ Mordred shouted angrily.

Connla carefully examined the device, then murmured, “This isn’t good. Communications with Ms. Da Vinci are down.”

“Seriously!? How the hell are we supposed to do anything like this!?”

“Maybe we should wait and see if they can get through to us.”

“Khhh…! Damn it, I’m terrible at waiting!” Mordred complained. “You’ve got experience with this whole THREAD business! What are we supposed to do to get back to Chaldea ourselves!?”

“Well, we could always find the nearest Leyline for me to establish a summoning circle. That way, SHEBA will be able to get a better reading of where we are. The problem is that Ms. Da Vinci is the one who scans the area for any mana sources. Without her guidance, we’re basically as good as lost.”

“Shit! Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything! That airheaded vixen’s gonna hear it from me when we get back!”

“Sir Mordred, you really need to calm down,” Connla implored.

“You’re joking, right!? How can I _not_ freak out at a time like this!? If we can’t figure out how to return to Master’s side, our Spirit Origins will collapse and we’ll fade away in some strange world without being rescued!”

“I know that. Since you’re the one with temporary Command Spells, that means you’ll have to be extra careful in managing their usage while we’re stranded here. Drain their power too quickly, and that scenario will most likely happen to us.”

“Damn it… Everything hinges on us finding a Leyline ASAP, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Your Bloodstone is back at Chaldea and our vitals can still be observed. If we can establish a summoning circle, our existence in this world should be strengthened, and SHEBA will be able to get a better reading on our location. Depending on the situation here, we can either retreat back to headquarters or ask for reinforcements.”

“No choice then,” Mordred’s anxiety seemed to settle down once they had a plan of action. She looked around and said, “This place doesn’t look familiar to me, so we’re definitely not in Britain.”

“Nor are we in Scotland or Ireland,” Connla shook her head. She looked up at the sky and murmured, “I can sense a lot more mana permeating the air than usual though. Maybe not as much as there was during the Age of Gods, but there’s certainly a lot more than there is in our time. All I can assume is that we’re closer to the time when the gods started to disappear from the world.”

“Fine! Let’s find the nearest town and ask for directions!”

“Okay. Give me a second.”

Connla drew several Runes in the air with her finger, then concentrated on activating their power. Mordred leaned in and asked curiously, “What are you doing?”

“I’m scanning the area for any sources of od, or mana that dwells within human bodies. The more concentrated the levels of od are, the more likely that a settlement is being detected. It’s one of the basics of Runecraft that my teacher taught me so that I don’t get lost while hunting.”

After a couple of minutes, the Lancer announced, “I’ve found something due north of us.”

“And, uh… Which way is north?”

“This way.”

Connla trudged through the thick snow in the proper direction, and Mordred followed her.

* * *

Da Vinci’s heart was racing like never before. The usually unperturbed genius became hopelessly frazzled once she discovered that the Rayshift didn’t go according to plan. She kept shouting at the blank monitor, “Mordred! Connla! If you’re there, answer me!”

The other staff members frantically struggled to restore communication with the two Servants, but all of their efforts were in vain. The inventor asked one man, “Are there any signs of them in 1888!?”

“Not even a trace! SHEBA is analyzing every possibility to find them, but the estimate is 10 days before a full scan is complete!”

“Did something go wrong with the Rayshift?” a woman wondered.

“That can’t be!” Da Vinci exclaimed. “Once SHEBA establishes the destination, Spiritron transmission should go off without incident!”

“Do you think they were blown off course by some external mechanism then?”

“Like what!? There shouldn’t be anything or anyone capable of interfering with a Rayshift! Even if that were the case, the system is designed to shut down at the first sign of an emergency!”

Soon enough, the doors to the Spiritron coffins slid open, and Ritsuka and Mash rushed through after hearing the alarms. Mash demanded, “What’s going on here!? Are we being invaded!?”

“Ah, perfect timing,” Da Vinci said. “Chaldea is not in danger, but we lost all contact with Mordred and Connla while they were en route to the resolved Fourth Singularity.”

“What do you mean ‘lost all contact’?”

“Exactly that.”

The young Shielder’s heart seized with worry. “Y-You’re kidding, right?”

Ritsuka approached the coffin with the Bloodstone attached inside and asked, “Whose stone is this?”

Da Vinci replied, “It’s Mordred’s. Connla’s registered as her only Servant in this mission. However, they’re both still your Servants. Try using your Command Spells to summon them back here.”

“Okay.”

The Magus closed her eyes and concentrated her thoughts on the intricate marking etched upon her right hand. All three segments glowed red simultaneously as their power were used up in response to her will. A minute passed as everyone’s eyes were focused on her. However, all they were greeted with was a disappointing silence.

“Did it work?” Mash asked nervously.

Ritsuka suddenly looked upset upon seeing that her two Servants did not return. She didn’t want to admit it, yet had no choice but to utter, “It didn’t…”

“What!? Why!?”

“I don’t know! I’m sure I did it right!”

“Yes, there’s nothing wrong with the summoning itself. It’s just… why!?”

“I’m just as confused as you are! Now I have to wait three days to try again!”

“Isn’t there some way for the Command Spells to recharge faster!?”

“Calm down, you two!” Da Vinci stopped them before they could get into a frantic argument. “Since Ritsuka’s Command Spells didn’t work even at maximum power, we have to assume that those two have been isolated from us through some unknown means. We still have the Bloodstone, but it’s the only connection we have left with them.”

“So if the stone were to be destroyed, or if Sir Mordred uses up those Command Spells, what’ll happen to them?” Mash wondered.

“It’s likely that they’ll be lost to us forever.”

“Oh god… This is too much to take! If only there was some way for us to help them!”

“We’ll stall all other missions and concentrate on reestablishing communication with them. I’ll focus on speeding up SHEBA’s scan so we can shave maybe two or three days off the estimate. You two, get me every Caster on deck at once!”

“Yes!”

Mash and Ritsuka scurried out to search for all of the Magus’s Caster-class Servants to assist Da Vinci.

* * *

Although the alarms weren’t blaring all around Chaldea, some Servants became curious when the incessant klaxons disrupted their daily routines. Word rapidly started to spread, and it didn’t take long before the rumors reached those resting in the Regal Lounge. This was especially the case when Ritsuka and Mash hurried in to look for some of the organization’s best Casters. They found one nearby – Nitocris, the queen Pharaoh who briefly held the throne of ancient Egypt during the Sixth Dynasty, who gained notoriety for killing the ones who murdered her brothers, and then committed suicide afterward.

At the moment, she was bringing a glass of alcohol for another Heroic Spirit who was an even greater Pharaoh than she could ever imagine. He was none other than Ozymandias, also known as Ramesses II, considered to be one of the most influential and powerful Pharaoh’s in human history. As a Servant, he was summoned as a Rider due to him possessing the Boat of the Sun, Mesektet, and using it as one of his Noble Phantasms to lay waste to entire cities. Coupled with his high skill level in Magecraft, he was certainly fitting for Ritsuka and Mash to ask for assistance despite him being a Rider.

“Lord Ozymandias! Lady Nitocris!” Mash exclaimed. “I’m terribly sorry to have disturbed your repose, but Da Vinci has asked us to look for anyone knowledgeable with Magecraft. There’s an emergency with the Spiritron coffins, and two of Senpai’s Servants are stranded in an unknown world!”

“Watch your tongue, shield girl!” Nitocris shouted. “Do you think that the esteemed King of Kings would give even an iota of interest into the plights of lesser Servants!? You should do well to know your place before his presence, regardless of what the current situation is!”

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s just that… Well…”

“Wait,” Ozymandias commanded, raising his hand to silence Nitocris. “There is no harm in lending an ear to my contractor’s woes. Though I am a god among men, I have been granted this second life due to her summons. As equally as I loved my people and led Egypt to prosperity, I shall do the same for Chaldea and its multitude of Servants that my contractor has welcomed into her inner circle. If an enemy were to shame Chaldea by separating my contractor with any of her beloved Servants, then it would bring shame to me, the Sun King, for neglecting to fulfill my divine duties.”

“O-Of course, my liege,” the queen shirked. “I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

“I see that my contractor’s Command Spells have all been expended, even though I witnessed her bearing all of them intact earlier today.”

Ritsuka explained, “I tried to summon them back here, but it didn’t work. We have no way of either contacting them or bringing them back here. We simply have no idea what’s going on here.”

“Who are the Servants that have been separated from us?”

“Mordred, the son of King Arthrur, and Connla, the son of Cuchulainn.”

“Huh!” another man scoffed nearby. They all glanced over to see Gilgamesh reclining in his favorite spot at the window. He looked at them with bemused glee and said, “The runt might not be useful, but at least she knows how to keep things interesting.”

“Runt?” Mash wondered. “Are you talking about Mordred?”

“No, the other one.”

Both Master and Demi-Servant were confused by what he meant. Gilgamesh got up and said, “Show me what has transpired. If anything, I should have a competent grasp of why those mongrels have been lost to us.”

“What folly!” Ozymandias laughed heartily. “You are an Archer! You’d best leave such profound matters to a true master of magic such as I!”

“My clairvoyance is omnipotent, regardless of what class I am summoned in. With but a simple invocation of Sha Naqba Imuru, I will be able to discern the truth behind this incident. Soon enough, I will have two loyal retainers of my own who shall be indebted to me for saving their insignificant lives.”

“Fascinating! Then how about a competition, King of Heroes? Let us see which one of us has what it truly takes to be the god who can pluck lost souls out of the ether!”

“Fwah hah hah hah! How absurd, thinking you can best me!”

With that, both men continued laughing and boasting their own strength while parading themselves to the Spiritron chamber. Ritsuka, Mash and Nitocris stared at their backs blankly, unsure of what to make of this odd scene. Even though both men spoke of competition and challenges, there didn’t seem to be any hint of animosity towards each other. Perhaps this whole thing was just a game to see which one of them was the real king who could stand above all other kings.

“Well, glad that worked out,” Ritsuka muttered. “With both of them on the case, we’ll have Connla and Mordred back in no time at all.”

Nitocris frowned and said, “I’m surprised Lord Ozymandias was magnanimous enough to search for such lower-class rabble. Truly, he is the Sun King; always shining upon everyone. I’m somewhat aware of what that tyrant Mordred did in her lifetime, but I have no idea who the other Servant is supposed to be.”

“Connla may be the least remembered in human history among all of Chaldea’s Servants, but Senpai still cherishes her. She’s been a huge help to keeping operations running smoothly,” Mash replied. “You know all of those books that Ozymandias likes to read in his spare time? She’s the one who delivers them to his chamber and brings them back to the library, though I don’t think he knows about it. She gets extremely nervous around royal and high-ranking Servants, so she keeps her distance as much as possible.”

“Is that right? No wonder I never noticed someone like that. She would’ve had no business with a mighty queen such as myself.”

“Nitocris,” Ritsuka said, “I know we already have Gilgamesh and Ozymandias helping us, but do you think you could pitch in a bit too?”

“Hm… I don’t know how much my abilities will compare to Lord Ozymandias’ power, but if it is you asking, then I’ll help out. It’s the least I can do for you allowing me to be Lord Ozymandias’ most loyal retainer in this new life.”


	6. Mysteries Within Mysteries

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 6: Mysteries Within Mysteries**

The wind started to pick up, reducing the already-frigid temperature even further. If Mordred and Connla were not Servants, they would definitely have died in this white wilderness and not be discovered for years. Since they weren’t technically living human beings but rather spirits comprised of mana, they could survive in these harsher climates without fear of dying from hypothermia. Even so, Mordred opted to put on her full suit of armor – one of her Noble Phantasms named Secret of Pedigree – to at least protect herself a bit. Connla’s bodysuit likewise had Runic markings designed to help keep out the cold. She was also used to living in chillier areas like this, so the low temperature actually felt nostalgic to her.

Despite these measures they took, Mordred still complained, “Hey, are you sure we’re going the right way? We haven’t seen anything but snow and trees for miles now!”

“I’m sure of it,” Connla replied. “It should be another hour before we reach this source of od readings that I’ve been picking up.”

“Geez.”

“Why do you sound so nervous? I know we’re in an unusual situation, but there’s no point in getting worked up until we gather more information.”

“I’m not nervous! I was just thinking of something,” the knight grumbled. “I doubt you’d know anything about it though…”

“What is it?”

“Well… Whenever Master and Mash go to a Singularity, their existence always has to be monitored, right?”

“That’s right. Ms. Da Vinci told me that it’s because the World doesn’t recognize living entities from one time period suddenly jumping to another, so everyone at Chaldea has to observe Master so that the World doesn’t erase her from the timeline. Think of it as a variant of Schrödinger’s Cat – you need to always observe the cat inside the box, or you won’t know for sure if it’s actually dead or alive. Otherwise you get the scenario that the cat could be both dead and alive at the same time. It may be fine as a thought experiment, but Rayshifting is an extremely risky process that could result in Master’s disappearance if not handled carefully.”

Mordred was surprised by the young child’s concise explanation of the complex phenomenon. She muttered, “Is that how it works? So then, are we fine like this? Will we not be erased?”

“We should be okay. Unlike Master, who is a living person, we’re Heroic Spirits, or the souls of deceased heroes. We can be summoned into any time or location as the World sees fit, regardless if our existence matches with the era. If this place we’ve been blown to has become a Singularity or something similar, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other Servants lurking around. I would rather prefer this wasn’t the source of a Singularity, but from how we were blown off-course without rhyme or reason, I’m not going to hold my breath.”

“That something else the floozy told you?”

“Not necessarily. I just thought it was common sense, if we consider all of the events that Chaldea has been involved in as proof that Servants can be summoned anywhere at any time. Maybe I should ask Ms. Da Vinci if my theory’s really true or not.”

“Huh…” Mordred huffed grumpily. She was relieved that they wouldn’t be in danger of disappearing, but she wished Connla kept the technical explanations to herself. Still, she wasn’t going to complain.

“I’m just utterly baffled by how we wound up at a completely different destination than intended. No matter how much I try to reason it out, it just doesn’t make any sense,” Connla frowned.

“Hey, I’m just as stumped as you are, but there’s no point in worrying about it, right? Let’s just figure out how to get back and let the eggheads sort that shit out.”

“I agree.”

Just as the Lancer claimed, they were starting to see signs of life after another half an hour of walking. They found plenty of footprints in the snow… with blood and some kind of strange black substance also staining the white powder. Both of them glanced at each other perplexedly, but didn’t need to say a word. They rushed forth toward what they believed would be a battle site, and their shared suspicion wasn’t wasted as they found a group of warriors armed in traditional Viking gear fighting against what could only be described as otherworldly demons.

These abominations were living masses of spiked tentacles that converged upon a gaping open mouth lined with rows of sharp teeth. There was no distinct face to these things, making them little more than mobile mouths with squirming legs. They looked more suitable for the deep sea rather than in the middle of an arctic country. Reinforcements burst out of the snow one by one to replace their fallen brethren, and they squirmed their way toward the town. Some caught sight of the approaching duo and turned their attention toward them.

Mordred snarled, then wielded her sword Clarent and said, “Well this sucks… For them, anyway!”

Connla likewise equipped her leaf-bladed spear, simultaneously chanting some Ansuz Runes and hurling numerous small fireballs at the creatures. The projectiles weren’t strong enough to kill them, but some beasts were stunned enough for Mordred to leap in and carve through the viscous flesh effortlessly. The Servants had no time to discuss a strategy, but they trusted each other enough to separate for the time being and handle the enemies in their own ways. Thus, Connla leapt aside from the fray to lure some creatures away from the warrior men to give them some breathing space to fight. Mordred stayed behind and acted as a bastion who would mow down the most condensed of the front lines.

“Come on!” the knight taunted.

The monsters hissed and pounced upon her. She struck them down with precision sword swipes reminiscent of her Saber class, yet she slaughtered them with a brutality that felt more appropriate for the Berserker class. While she was preoccupied, rows of much larger tentacles suddenly burst through the snow like moles popping out of the ground. At least a dozen tentacles whipped straight for the nonchalant teenager and coiled around her entire body, burying her in layers of writhing flesh. Suddenly, red sparks flashed through the crevices, followed by a powerful bolt of lightning that disintegrated the appendages. Mordred remained unharmed, standing there with a confident swagger and grinning at the confused monsters. Before they could react, she swung horizontally a single time. After a dramatic pause, a clean line cleaved itself through some of the monsters, spilling black blood and carved monster meat everywhere.

The other creatures didn’t seem bothered by how their kin had been viciously murdered and squirmed toward her, hoping to overwhelm her with sheer numbers. She raised her sword in front of her while muttering, “Normally I’d save this for worthy opponents, but I’m not exactly in the mood for mopping up eldritch abominations one at a time. Best to finish this in one go!”

Clarent’s blade became enveloped in red and purple energy, and crimson lighting crackled around her. The beasts realized that they had messed with the wrong warrior and attempted to flee. It was much too late for them though as she released her Noble Phantasm’s name:

**_“Clarent Blood Arthur!”_ **

* * *

Meanwhile, Connla diverted about 10 demons away from the main battlefield and into the forest, thinning their numbers a little bit. Any creatures that caught up to her would either be sliced into pieces or burned alive with Ansuz Runes, so the survivors kept their distance until they could surround her. She found a decent clearing and fired a volley of rocks with her slingshot. Although none of them were fatal hits, most of the creatures were bewildered by the onslaught of pebbles and opted to break their formation to dodge them.

This was what Connla was waiting for, and she rushed in to pick off any strays while they were left defenseless. It didn’t take much for her to kill them with her weapons and/or magic, but she also needed to be careful. She didn’t have the same vitality that Mordred did, so she relied upon Protection From Arrows to help her dodge any attacks she would have otherwise not seen coming. The monsters were surprisingly fast considering how squirmy and slimy they were, but they weren’t as clever as the little girl.

Connla hopped away from a group of demons as they attempted to bind her with their tentacles together, and she bounced from tree trunk to tree trunk to confuse them. She wasn’t just jumping around for fun though; she laid a Rune at each tree surrounding the confounded beasts. Then when she landed, she commanded the sigils to explode simultaneously, destroying each tree’s base and sending the trunks falling right upon the monsters. The combined weight of the falling trees rocked the immediate landscape, so Connla had to kneel to keep her balance. When the cacophony calmed down, she looked over to find crushed bodies and unmoving tentacles trapped beneath the trees.

_That takes care of that,_ she thought, then hurried on back to the field.

She sped along the snow, barely leaving behind any footprints as she used a sort of gliding jump to bypass the white fluff that would have otherwise slowed her down. She caught sight of a port town in the distance, but that wasn’t what actually caught her attention. Scurrying away from the town was a gaggle of enemies, and one of them was carrying a terrified boy who was a few years older than Connla. He screamed at the top of his lungs in dire panic, _“YAAAH! Let me go! Put me down! **MOO~OOM!** ”_

“Not good!” Connla gasped and ran toward the fleeing demons, catching up to them easily. She jumped over them with gymnastic finesse and landed in front of the monster to bar its path. It gathered some kind of acidic mucus in its throat and spat a nasty black wad at her. She deftly sidestepped the disgusting projectile and stabbed her spear straight into its mouth, piercing the heart that was somehow located at the back of the epiglottis. With the creature dead, it slumped upon the snow and dissolved into dark goop, releasing the boy from its grasp.

“That… _That was amazing…!_ ” he shouted, although he looked more frightened than thrilled.

“It’s not over yet! Get behind me!” Connla commanded, and the boy did exactly that as they saw several more demons approaching. Without giving them any proper warning, she dashed in and chopped up the closest monster. While she was busy, another one wrapped its leg around her ankle and lifted her up into the air to disarm her.

“Gh!” she gasped, then reared her other foot and smashed it against what she assumed was the equivalent of its face. The stunned creature released her out of reflex, and she deftly landed on her feet. She hurled some small fireballs to engulf it in flames, killing it instantly.

“Look out!” the boy warned.

Connla whirled around to come face-to-face with the last monster as it lunged its fanged mouth upon her, intent on chomping her head clean off. She was so alarmed by how close she was to death that she lost her balance. Suddenly, a strange lance-like projectile shot into the demon’s mouth and pierced its vital organs. It died in mid-attack, slumping over the surprised Lancer and burying her beneath gooey flesh.

“Whoa…” was all she could utter.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked, pulling her out.

“I’m fine,” she replied, but was clearly befuddled by whatever the strange attack was that saved her life.

_Where did that spear come from?_

Connla looked around, but couldn’t find anyone else other than the boy. She peered at Mini-Cu, still clutching to her back like a koala to a tree. She never felt any indication of him moving around, yet she had a funny feeling that the spear came from him. When Da Vinci first gave him to her, he had been carrying a miniature Gae Bolg that was certainly combat-worthy, though not much better than an oversized needle. Connla took Mini-Cu off and inspected him carefully. He remained as motionless as always though.

_Nah, it can’t be. Toys don’t move on their own._

She shook her head as she remembered something.

_Then again, Ms. Da Vinci was the one who gave this to me. Who knows what sort of bizarre gadgets she could come up with?_

She didn’t have time to worry about it because she heard a woman in her thirties scream, _“Ahren!”_

A petrified lady ran toward the boy at full speed, ignoring the grotesque creatures that were scattered all over the place and disintegrating.

“Mom!” he shouted elatedly and dashed in to hug his mother.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right! I looked everywhere for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

“I’m okay! That girl saved me!”

“Really?” the lady looked over at Connla. “But how can that be? She definitely looks younger than you.”

“You won’t believe it, but she was incredible! She was all like ‘whoosh’ and ‘stab’! Those ugly things didn’t stand a chance against her!”

“Oh…” she murmured, then faced the Lancer and said, “Thank you so much for saving my son, young lady.”

“Don’t worry about it. I need to catch up with my traveling partner.”

“You mean that fierce-sounding knight with the bull helmet? I saw them kill the last of those monstrosities as I was chasing after Ahren. The village’s warriors are helping them out as well.”

“Excellent. That must mean she’s cleaning things up over there,” Connla nodded, relieved that this surprise ambush was officially settled.

“I’m sorry to say that we don’t have much to offer in the way of a monetary reward. Our situation is bad enough as it is…”

“No, no, I have no need for money. I was just doing what was natural for me as a soldier.”

“Then if there’s anything you need, please feel free to let me know. It’s the least I can to show my gratitude for you rescuing Ahren.”

“I think you could help me out right now actually,” the Servant said, suddenly having an epiphany. “My friend and I are trying to get to the capital, but we don’t know where it is from here.”

“Are you perhaps lost? All you have to do is keep going northeast from here, and you’ll wind up in Copenhagen,” the mother said.

“Copenhagen?”

“Yes. Thing is, we’re on Funen Island between Jutland and the eastern island of Zealand. If you want to go to the capital, you’ll need a boat. Unfortunately, this village doesn’t have any more ships, so you can’t leave from here.”

“Eh? But we’re right by the water, aren’t we? Why wouldn’t a port town have any ships?”

“Mom says that we have to abandon Nyborg because of all those ugly creatures attacking everyone,” Ahren explained, suddenly appearing worried. “I heard that lots and lots of people all over Zealand have either died or been taken away by those things. I’ve been waiting for my friends over there to send me letters, but I haven’t heard from them for a long time. Because of that, Mom and I are getting ready to leave Nyborg tomorrow with the chief and the last group of villagers.”

“I see…”

The woman said, “We can only sleep in our house for one more night, but if you’d like, you and your friend are welcome to stay.”

“Let me talk with her about it,” Connla said. “I think she would be okay with it though.”

* * *

After killing the last of the demons, Mordred stood triumphantly over her defeated opponents and exclaimed with a grin, “That’s it!? Hardly what I’d call even a warm-up! If you want to give me a challenge, you better bring an entire army with you next time!”

“Sir Mordred!” she heard Connla shouting, and found her running toward her.

“Hey! Everything okay on your end?”

“Yes! Not only that, but I finally know where we are now!”

“Really? Where are we?”

Connla explained everything she discussed with Ahren and his mother. Mordred raised an eyebrow and asked, “Sorry for being slow on the uptake, but which country is Copenhagen the capital of again?”

“Denmark. That means we’re deep in Scandinavian territory.”

“Shit. Talk about being way off base. Not only is the country wrong, but it’s not even the right season.”

“What do you mean?”

“The place we were supposed to Rayshift to is in its late summer days.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t match either…” the child shifted her eyes around, apprehensively gazing at the heavy snowfall and grey skies.

“Did you ask them what year it is?” Mordred wondered.

“No. If I asked them that, it would just make them suspicious of us. They already look to be on edge from these monster attacks, so dealing with strangers from another time would just cause needless panic for them,” Connla murmured.

“Tch. Guess it’s best to assume we’re in a completely different year as well.”

“Yeah. Luckily, no matter what era we’re in, at least Leylines will always be consistent. We should just find one and Rayshift out of here as soon as possible. We can sort those details back at Chaldea later. For now, let’s take up Ahren’s offer and stay with them for the night. We can ask them for more information during dinner.”

“Sounds perfect! I’m totally famished here!”

* * *

In Nyborg’s outskirts, Mordred and Connla saw several men loading wagons with food and supplies. Just as Ahren claimed, the town’s last remaining residents were preparing to evacuate westward to the nearest port town Odense. Today’s attack only served to incite them to work harder so they could leave as soon as they could. Ahren and his mother, Linnea, brought the two Servants to their house and prepared a basic meal consisting of gruel, soup, bread and water.

“How is the meal?” Linnea asked. “I know we don’t have much, but most of the regular food has been loaded already. All that’s left are basically scraps.”

“After a battle like that, anything is delicious to me at this point,” Mordred said, munching down loaf after loaf of fresh bread.

“Thank you for putting us in for the night,” Connla added.

“My word, I should be the one thanking you both for saving my son and the warriors,” Linnea said. “I would have been at a total loss if I tried to convince everyone to look for him. They’re all so concerned with fleeing that they probably would have told me to give up on Ahren.”

“Is the situation that bad?”

“It is absolutely terrible. Still, I’m actually surprised you want to go to Copenhagen at a time like this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“That’s where those monsters have been coming from. Everyone’s been trying to escape from there, so it’s strange that you two are headed in that direction.”

“Is that right?” Mordred wondered. “Damn. No matter how you slice it, that just ain’t natural.”

Ahren suddenly exclaimed, “Say, are you going there because you’re heroes who will get rid of the bad guys?”

“Uh?” Connla uttered. “Well, the thing is…”

“Why else would you be going to where the villains are? It must be because you’re here to stop them!”

“Ahren,” Linnea scolded her son, “don’t be so rude. You shouldn’t expect humble visitors to do something so rash.”

“But Mom, didn’t you see how they fought!? They were awesome! They _have_ to be heroes who are going to save us! The gods won’t do anything for us, so maybe if-!”

_“That’s enough!”_

Connla and Mordred watched this exchange with an uncomfortable look on their faces. Linnea said, “I’m sorry for this behavior. I just feel it’s best not to get his hopes up for anyone coming to save this country. I’m not sure what your business is there, but I strongly advise you reconsider your journey.”

“Of course,” Connla said. “I’m glad you understand, madam.”

“Yeah. We’re supposed to go there for… other reasons,” Mordred uttered, scratching her chin sheepishly. She couldn’t come up with a better excuse than that.

“That’s what I assumed. See, Ahren? You shouldn’t force your expectations onto other people like that, or you’ll wind up disappointing yourself in the end,” the mother told the boy.

“Aww. So that means there really are no heroes out there who will save us?” he moaned dejectedly.

“Enough with this nonsense about heroes and villains. We have to do what we can to save ourselves, and that means leaving Nyborg immediately. Now let’s hurry up and get our belongings loaded onto the caravan. Our group will be leaving at sunrise, so we mustn’t dilly-dally any longer now that the monsters are so close.”

“Okay.”

Linnea and Ahren left to gather the last of their possessions, leaving the two knights to ponder what they just learned. Connla raised an eyebrow and murmured, “I know we weren’t really headed for the capital, but after hearing what they said, it’d be a really bad idea to go that way.”

“Why not?” Mordred grinned. “My instinct’s telling me that something major is brewing there.”

“Uh… What exactly do you mean?”

“Think about it. The tentacles were draining some victims of their mana while the beasts were kidnapping others, right? Who do you think would want to absorb mana from humans when there’s already an abundance of it in the air?”

Connla thought about it for a moment, then said, “I guess either a Magus or a Servant.”

“Bingo! And if there’s such people lurking around, that must mean we’re smack dab in the middle of a Holy Grail War!”

“You think so?”

“I know so! I don’t know if it’s intuition or some kind of past experience I had, but that _has_ to be the case! Plus those monstrosities have to be the work of a Caster! They can’t reach this far from Copenhagen unless their wielder is an especially powerful mage! Don’t you agree!?”

“Well, I can see where you’re coming from, but…”

“What’s the problem!? I say we check this out!”

“Hmm…” Connla still appeared unsure. Then out of nowhere, she firmly asked, “Is this because you want to be the hero that Ahren was talking about?”

“Huh? Well I guess that would be a nice bonus. But more than that, it’s my pride on the line! Nothing will impress Father more than if I tell him all about how I corrected an entire incident on my own!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! We know absolutely nothing about the enemy! What if they wind up being way too powerful for us to fight!?”

“No one can stand against me! If Father is one of the most powerful Sabers in the world, then I’m just as strong as him!”

The Lancer folded her arms and declared, “That’s not going to convince me.”

“What!? You cheeky little-!”

“Please listen to me, Sir Mordred. We need to be realistic about this. Our priority is to find a Leyline so we can strengthen SHEBA’s ability to detect us. If we wind up being killed before we can reestablish our connection with Chaldea, we’ll be lost to Master forever. I think it’s our duty to survive whatever perils are plaguing this world until we find the Leyline. Furthermore, I fail to see how we have any obligation to resolve what’s going on here.”

“Hey, are you serious? Aren’t you worried that this whole thing could be a Singularity in the works? We should do our part as Servants of Chaldea by taking care of things here first!”

“Yes, I want to resolve this problem too, but I still think it’s impossible for just the two of us. Even Master requires the aid of an entire team of Servants to accomplish such, right? Expecting just two Master-less Servants to do the same is asking for far too much, in my opinion.”

“Son of a bitch… What are we supposed to do then!?” Mordred fumed.

“How about this?” Connla offered. “We first find the Leyline and connect Chaldea to this world. Once we’ve returned to Master’s side, we can ask for her help in correcting what’s going on here. I’m sure she’d be willing to assist us, and she’ll bring an entire bevy of powerful Servants just like you to counter whoever has occupied Copenhagen. At the very least, I’d feel a _lot_ safer if we went with a plan like that instead of just charging in blindly while not knowing if we’re actually capable of defeating this mysterious adversary.”

“I get it. So we’re not really abandoning the enemy, but leaving them be for now until we can bring in the main guns.”

“Exactly. I’m eager to defeat this villain just as much as you are, but I also want to keep things in perspective. We’re part of Chaldea, so we should work with everyone as a unified front. All I want is to be able to establish that united front in the first place. Then we can march toward Copenhagen, and you can do whatever you want from there.”

“All right,” Mordred finally gave in. “Kind of sucks that I can’t lay the smackdown and claim the glory I deserve, but I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Thank you. I know it’s difficult for someone as dutiful as you to ignore powerful opponents when they’re oppressing the masses, so I’m glad we’ve come to a compromise.”

“Hey, enough already. Now you’re just embarrassing me. A knight should be both fierce in battle as the striking iron, yet cool in mind as the tranquil lake… At least, that’s what Gawain would always say.”

“That’s the kind of wisdom I can appreciate,” Connla said. “Then I suppose we should figure out what we’re going to do from here.”

* * *

At the very first sign of sunlight in the dawn sky, the villagers woke up from a night’s worth of very uneasy sleep. Everyone was fearful that there would be more monsters lurking about – some people were even insistent on leaving during the night, but the chief wouldn’t allow it. He wanted the warriors to get enough rest so they could defend the caravan with all of their strength.

Now it was time for the refugees to leave Nyborg. It was difficult for them to make this choice, but they held hope that they wouldn’t have to abandon their home forever. As the chief was preparing to lead everyone toward Odense, Linnea brought Connla and Mordred with her and said to him, “I know you’re terribly busy, sir, but there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

“Actually, these two knights have offered to help defend us during the journey.”

“Hm?” the older man gazed at the two underaged Servants. “Are these the ones who saved us yesterday?”

“Yes. Sir Mordred kept the soldiers safe, while Miss Connla rescued Ahren from being kidnapped. I think they would be a fantastic asset for us. At the very least, I’d feel much safer knowing that they were with us.”

He inspected both girls carefully, then told them, “Granted, I did not bear witness to your heroism, but I’ve heard multiple accounts of your actions and cannot deny that you perform a tremendous service for us. Even so, I have to wonder what would motive a couple of foreigners to this land to defend us from the enemy. Is there something you two are after?”

“Of course there is!” Mordred exclaimed boldly. “We need a boat ASAP! We’re escorting you all so we can cozy up to whoever the next town’s shipwright is, plain and simple!”

“Please, Sir Mordred, you musn’t be so callous,” Connla chastised her, then said to the chief, “But it’s true. We’re in need of a boat for further travel, and Nyborg’s ports are no longer operational. We don’t know where Odense is, but I understand that it’s another port town. If you could show us the way there and get us acquainted with someone who owns a ship, then we’ll defend you from any more demons during the trip there.”

“It was my idea, you know.”

The chief scratched his chin for a moment, then said, “Very well. If it is a sailing vessel you require, I know some people who may be willing to help. In exchange, we will all be counting on you two to cooperate with the warriors and keep us safe.”

“Neat! All right then, if there’s nothing else, then let’s hit the road! Next stop, Odense!”


	7. Continuing the Journey

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 7: Continuing the Journey**

In Chaldea’s Spiritron Chamber, Roman, Da Vinci and an entire team of staff and Servants were dedicated to analyzing SHEBA’s scans in order to pinpoint Mordred and Connla’s location. All other missions were put on hiatus until this matter was resolved, and many Servants who weren’t skilled with such advanced technology nevertheless gathered around to see what the fuss was about.

“Even with all hands on deck, this is still going to take a while,” Roman muttered. “At the least, we can cut down SHEBA’s search from 10 days to about three, but who knows what will happen to those two in the meantime.”

“I’m really worried for them,” Mash admitted, but looked around at the growing crowd and smiled a bit. “But it’s great to see how many Servants feel the same way as me.”

“Come now, there’s no need to fret,” Da Vinci grinned lightly. “I bet Mordred would be offended if she saw so many of us worrying about her. She’d be all like ‘There’s no need for that! I’m one of the strongest Sabers in the world!’ Or something like that.”

“I agree. But what about Connla? So many strange things have already been happening to her lately, and now this. Even if we rescue them, what are we going to do afterwards? We simply can’t let these incidents keep happening to her, or else all of the Cuchulainns will be extremely upset. But we have no clues to go on for a thorough investigation either.”

Behind them, a tall fellow with long black hair flicked on a lighter and lit a cigar as he said, “No doubt that this is all the handiwork of someone lurking in the shadows, as the young lady says. There’s no way the Rayshift destination could have changed unless it was outside interference. Yet the only ones who could be capable of such a feat are gods, and their presence has all but disappeared from this world.”

“Perhaps it is someone on par with them? Like Solomon?” Da Vinci wondered.

“I’m not so sure. What point is there to him targeting a single Servant when he has already established his motive to be the extermination of all mankind?”

“Hm… Got me there, Zhuge.”

Mash stared at the calm-mannered intellectual. He appeared as a sharp-eyed gentleman wearing a red jacket with a yellow scarf over his shoulders, and a black suit underneath. Although this man indeed housed the Chinese Heroic Spirit Zhuge Liang inside his body, it wasn’t technically correct to call him that. He was a Pseudo-Servant, a type of Servant resulting from the fusion of a Heroic Spirit who didn’t possess the qualities to fully materialize, and a living human who was a suitable vessel for the spirit to temporarily reside within. Pseudo-Servants were a combination both physically and mentally, so it was fairer to say that they created an entirely new entity. It wasn’t the same as with Mash, who was a Demi-Servant created by fusing a Heroic Spirit’s Saint Graph into their bodies, allowing the human to retain their individuality while the spirit became dormant.

Either way, everyone in Chaldea addressed this Servant either as the Heroic Spirit Zhuge Liang, or as the human Lord El-Melloi II. Some who knew him as a youth even called him by his childhood name Waver Velvet, much to his annoyance. Although he wasn’t a particularly special Magus on his own, thanks to functioning as the vessel for the famous Chinese strategist and scholar, he became a Caster not to be taken lightly. He had the ability to observe others and discern their true potential, then used his skills to either boost his comrades’ fighting capabilities or stymie his enemies’ movements. Naturally, this made him a valuable asset in the search for the missing Servants.

El-Melloi inhaled another puff of his cigar, then grumbled, “Things will only be more difficult if they are trapped in a world that has been designated for removal.”

“Designated for removal? What do you mean?” Mash asked.

“It’s difficult to explain if you’re not aware of the Second Magic. To make a long story short, it concerns the existence of realities parallel to our own, all of which branch off from the main timeline – what we Mages call the Foundation. Some worlds are so similar to the Foundation that we consider them to be ‘near the center’ of the cluster of branches. Other worlds that are ‘farther away from the center’ are considered realities that are much too distinct from the Foundation, and thus the World imposes what’s called a Quantum Time-Lock in order to cull these realities.”

“No way! Why would it do that!?”

“Think of an actual tree. You need to trim its branches every once in a while, or else they will become so thick that the tree cannot get enough sunlight. Similarly, the ceaseless proliferation of these millions of alternate realities will essentially overrun the World’s capability of managing them. Therefore, the World will cut off the most ‘toxic’ of these branches in order to keep the ‘trunk’ healthy. Without this process, we could only last about a hundred years or so before the sheer multitude of parallel dimensions swallows us whole.”

“Oh… So you’re saying that even if Mordred and Connla are okay, the World might wind up erasing them anyway due to a Quantum Time-Lock being imposed?”

“Exactly. That’s why rescuing them is of the utmost importance right now. We have SHEBA searching across worlds that are at the highest risk for culling before focusing closer to the Foundation.”

“Well, don’t be hasty,” Gilgamesh interrupted them, having overheard their conversation while concentrating on the search. “That’s only a possibility. The world those mongrels landed in could be entirely safe as well. Still, they certainly are taking their sweet time trying to find a Leyline. For all we know, they could be gallivanting about doing whatever they want, while you lot are here worrying sick for their safety. I suppose a swift punishment is in order for such insubordination once those ingrates are retrieved.”

Mash moaned, “That’s only an assumption, sire. Mordred is one thing, but I know Connla would be doing her utmost to get back in contact with us.”

“I suppose so. If it wasn’t for that treacherous knight accompanying her, the runt would have been entirely defenseless on her own. By the way, mongrel, there has been some hearsay about bizarre incidents surrounding the runt.”

“Yeah. For whatever reason, Connla keeps getting targeted by powerful Servants who seek to assassinate her. I just don’t understand why this keeps happening to her. She’s never done anything wrong, so she can’t have caused anyone to resent her so much.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps there is someone who simply sees her existence as a hindrance?”

“What…?” the Demi-Servant’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Don’t look so gobsmacked, girl. It’s only the most logical conclusion. Even I know how harmless that pitiful pup is, so her upsetting anyone is out of the question.”

“Oh my, oh my!” Ozymandias grinned as he heard their discussion. “For not having made any contact with her, you seem to know more than you let on! Maybe her dutiful nature is compelling you to appoint her as your personal vassal!”

“Nonsense. What can a weakling like that do for me other than be a meat shield?”

“Even so, you seem rather motivated to rescue those two Servants when you normally wouldn’t bat an eye in their direction. Well, I suppose I can permit such vigor for the sake of our competition! Heh hah hah hah!”

As the Pharaoh laughed at himself, Gilgamesh’s mind wandered away from the subject as he thought about what Ozymandias said. The idea never really crossed his mind, but he still felt unsure about it. He wasn’t certain of what Connla’s true capabilities were as a warrior, yet he couldn’t deny that she was quite the trooper when it came to helping everyone out in Chaldea. Furthermore, he couldn’t forget the promise he made with the adult Connla. He needed a way to judge the younger Connla’s worthiness before he could return to the Kaleidoscope with her to fulfill his part of the deal with the woman.

_Perhaps if the runt survives this, I might actually appoint her as my personal retainer. Then it would be easier for me to observe her directly instead of influencing the other mongrels to investigate for me._

As Gilgamesh was lost in his thoughts, he heard a woman’s rigid voice ask, “How goes the rescue mission?”

“Oh, Saber…!” he crooned in delight and turned around, but then immediately stopped himself. “Tch. It’s just you.”

The lady who stood before him was garbed entirely in indigo armor and a black bodysuit that revealed the majority of the undersides of her supple breasts. Her hardened eyes shone gold, and her platinum blonde hair shimmered in the blue light of the Spiritron Chamber. She was as dark and chilly as midnight hours during the winter season, and her tone was just as frigid as she muttered, “You sound displeased, King of Heroes.”

“You bore me,” the king glowered bitterly. “Get out of my sight at once, mongrel. Your bosom, healthy as it may be, is breaking my concentration.”

“I have no obligation to supplement your sybaritic lifestyle, scum. I am only here to see what has become of one of my Knights.”

This austere woman was one of several versions of Artoria Pendragon, the female interpretation of King Arthur, regarded as Lancer Alter. Normally, regardless if King Arthur was male or female, he was known for wielding the legendary sword Excalibur. However, he also possessed the sacred lance Rhongomyniad, which didn’t gain as much fame as Excalibur yet was still powerful in its own right. Thus, it was possible for Artoria to be summoned as a Lancer who wielded the spear. On top of that was the ability to call upon her Alter self the same way that Artoria’s Saber version had an Alter.

During the Sixth Singularity that Ritsuka and her team resolved, the penultimate enemy turned out to be Artoria Lancer, who had dubbed herself both the Lion King and the Goddess Rhongomyniad, who sought to salvage the last few worthy humans before the world was destroyed. Here, Artoria Lancer Alter was the result of what would’ve happened had she _not_ become the Lion King who oppressed the masses.

Whereas Lancer was the epitome of a radiant white king who demanded absolute obedience from her kingdom, Lancer Alter was the tyrannical black knight who would dash into battle and deliver swift punishment to her enemies. This transformation also wound up changing her attitude somewhat. No longer was she the idealist who sought to sacrifice herself for the sake of her kingdom, even going so far as to discard human relations. She had become a stark realist who understood how terrifying she could be to friend and foe alike, yet charged into the fray all the same. This also made her a lot more grounded than her original self, which meant that she forged better connections with those around her.

This was what prompted Lancer Alter to stop by and see how everything was going. The moment she learned that Mordred had been lost in the universe of possibilities, she began to feel uneasy. Although she couldn’t assist with the search, she felt a lot more comfortable with observing everyone working hard to rescue the Servants.

Earlier, Lancer Alter told her original Saber self what had happened to their ‘son’. However, all she was met with was a vapid, “I see,” before Saber returned to gorging on Emiya Archer’s cooking, completely disinterested in the situation. Saber didn’t even look in Lancer Alter’s direction as she said this.

_Pathetic,_ Lancer Alter thought, feeling as though she was looking at herself in a mirror. _To think that she’s the same person as me is preposterous. How can she not concern herself with how hard her people are working for her sake? It’s exactly why Sir Mordred rebelled against me; facing my back to her like this was the symbol of my disassociation with the people, and the fear and resentment they harbored toward me. Seeing myself behave like this, my kingdom’s downfall must have seemed well-deserved to Sir Mordred._

Lancer Alter decided to not bother telling the other Artorias. Saber Alter and Lancer basically shared the same indifferent opinion toward their ‘son’, while Mysterious Heroine X only saw Mordred as another Saber that she needed to zealously strike down. As for Saber Lily, while her sweet countenance would have caused her to be concerned, she also had no idea who Mordred was. Lily was the youngest of the Artorias and thus hadn’t become a father yet, so the concept of her bearing a child was much too foreign to her.

Lancer Alter stared at the Global Environment Model CHALDEAS, a miniature replica of planet Earth comprised entirely of Spiritrons. She thought about Mordred and how they had interacted with each other poorly when they were alive. She wasn’t sure of what she was feeling, but she couldn’t deny that once she heard of the knight’s disappearance, something gnawed away at her heart. Was it worry? Anger? Grief? She couldn’t describe this bitter sensation any better than that. Deep down, she felt she had an obligation as a father to see what would happen to her ‘son’, even if it meant learning of the teenager’s demise. She refused to believe that one of her strongest knights would fail, but she had to remember how temperamental she was as well. All Lancer Alter could do was silently pray for Mordred’s return.

_Mordred… Do your best… and come back to me safely._

* * *

A small horde of the sea creatures writhed about on the snow, leaving behind dark slime that tainted the pure white ground. They surrounded someone clad entirely in black armor, yet the figure didn’t seem bothered by the monsters. In fact, he was rather bemused by how paltry their assault was.

“Feh. Like moths to a flame,” he murmured.

Indeed, this was the same Saber who had been summoned by the equally mysterious woman and had been given the mission of ensuring the two visitors’ safety. He knew where the girls had landed, so it was a matter of keeping his distance while dealing with problems like this without them knowing. During the night, Saber discovered another battalion of demons that had swam westward from Zealand. Word must have spread about Mordred and Connla defeating the first brigade, and a backup unit had been sent to dispose of them and the last of Odense’s refugees.

Saber would not allow that to happen, so he willingly attracted their attention once the monsters reached shore and slaughtered some of them. From there, he drew the survivors toward a remote area where the caravan would not be disturbed. Now that he had the battle under his control, he was free to do whatever he wished to the demons without attracting too much attention.

Beneath his eerie mask, Saber grinned at his otherworldly opponents while unsheathing a series of glowing blue knives from holsters around his legs.

* * *

Once Nyborg’s last refugees were ready, the entire group departed their hometown and proceeded northwest toward Odense. The journey would take half a day, with the heavy snowfall complicating matters further. Everyone had to do their part to make sure the trip was successful, so Mordred guarded the caravan from the front while chatting merrily with some of the warriors, and Connla remained in the rear where the women and children were. Ahren told his friends all about Connla’s strength and valiance, and most of the boys grew interested in seeing if he wasn’t just bragging.

“Are you saying you guys want to see how I fight?” Connla wondered.

“Yeah! Ahren’s always obsessed with heroes and warriors, so he tends to exaggerate things,” one of the boys said. “If you really are as strong as he says, then show us how you can hunt a wild animal!”

“But I have a job to do. I can’t just run off and do whatever I want just to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Then when we get to Odense, take me with you on a hunting expedition!”

“Me too!” another lad exclaimed.

“Hmm…” the Lancer mumbled. “I’m afraid I can’t stick around for long, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Where are you going after we reach the town?”

“Sir Mordred and I will definitely sail to the mainland, but we’re not really sure after that.”

“Hey,” Ahren frowned meekly, “are you two really not going to save us from the monsters?”

“I’m really sorry, but we’re just not strong enough to take them on by ourselves,” Connla sighed. “If it makes you feel better though, we’re looking to recruit more warriors like us so we can reclaim the capital from the bad guys.”

“Really!? So you’re not going to just abandon us!?”

“I’d feel terrible if I did. I’m not the type to turn away from people who are suffering, but I also have to understand my own strength and figure out what I can and can’t do. Searching for an alternative way is what I’ve decided, rather than barging into enemy territory and hoping I win with brute strength alone.”

“Ohh…!” his eyes brightened up. “I knew it! You really _are_ a hero!”

“Huh?”

“Heroes aren’t just strong; they have to be smart too! I get it, you’re helping us out in a different way. It’ll take you some time, but you’ll find more heroes who can destroy the villains, right?”

“Well if you put it that way, then yes, that’s the plan,” Connla mumbled bashfully.

“Awesome!” Ahren beamed. “I’ll be waiting for the good news!”

“Sure…” she rubbed her forehead and thought, _That’s quite the hefty promise to make. I guess I better work extra hard to not disappoint him, or I’ll never be able to live with myself afterward._

Just then, some of the men commanded their horses and oxen to make a sudden stop. The travelers in the rear weren’t sure what happened, so they ambled about in confusion and asked each other what was going on. Soon, Connla heard Mordred yell, “Hey! I need your help up here!”

“Is something the matter?” the Lancer asked as she hurried to her partner’s side.

“Look at this,” the knight pointed to the road ahead.

Connla finally saw what had alarmed the group. Dead sea creatures and goopy black blood stained the fresh snow, creating a huge mess in the otherwise perfect white scenery. From experience, the girls could tell that the monsters had been carved into small pieces, and they couldn’t find any red blood from a human source anywhere. Whoever had done this managed to get away without suffering a scratch.

“Whoa!” Ahren gasped as he saw the scene. “You guys didn’t do this, did you?”

“No way,” Connla shook her head. “We’ve been with all of you this whole time.”

Mordred scowled, “The hell’s going on here? Who else is making mincemeat of these things?”

Connla raised an eyebrow, perplexed as to who was strong enough to wipe out so many demons by themselves. Her skin prickled and shivered on its own volition as she sensed some kind of energy nearby. She darted her eyes around, thinking that someone was observing them from close by. She carefully panned her vision around the snowy landscape, but couldn’t find anything or anyone suspicious.

_Was it just my imagination?_

“W-Well, this may be quite surprising, but I assume that we’re safe?” the chief asked nervously.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about,” Mordred said. “No point in gawking like this. Let’s get to Odense before it gets dark.”

“Excellent. We shall proceed then.”

* * *

About halfway into the evening hours, the caravan finally reached the port town of Odense without any further incident. The Servants had to say their good-byes to everyone before the chief brought them to the docks. It took some time, but he negotiated with a merchant bound for the port of Frederica to take the girls onboard in exchange for payment. The boat would set sail during the night due to a tight deadline that the trader needed to meet, so Mordred and Connla got on board and waited to set off.

“I’m exhausted,” Connla yawned, gazing upon Odense languidly. This town was certainly a lot livelier compared to Nyborg, yet there still loomed an air of uncertainty as to whether or not this place would be safer in the long run. She saw another vessel nearby that was boarding passengers who wanted to leave the island for good and retreat to the mainland.

“Quit complaining. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in the cargo hold,” Mordred tousled the girl’s hair.

“Kind of hard to do that when I have no idea what we’re going to do next.”

“Well, duh! We’re looking for the Leyline, remember!?”

“I know, but I told you before, didn’t I? Ms. Da Vinci is the one who searched for large mana sources, but we don’t have any line of communication with Chaldea right now. We’ll have to use an independent method to search by ourselves.”

“Shit…” Mordred cursed. She pondered on this conundrum, then wondered, “Say, didn’t I see you flinging some spells around earlier?”

“I did,” Connla nodded. “They were just basic Celtic Runes though. Anyone worth half their salt can use them, given enough training.”

“Then think you could use your hocus pocus to find us a Leyline?”

“Hmm…” the child Servant dubiously scratched her chin. “There is a type of dowsing Runecraft, but it’s a very advanced series of Runes that I’m not familiar with. My teacher wasn’t able to show me the sequence before I was called away to face Father in Ulster during my lifetime.”

“Ugh!” Mordred slumped onto her buttocks in frustration. “No good, huh?”

“Not necessarily. I know the basic Runic alphabet, so I just need to learn the full spell. Furthermore, Celtic Runes and Scandinavian Runes aren’t too much different from each other, so if I was taught the dowsing spell by a local Runecraft user, I should be able to do it.”

“Why not just ask them to look for us?”

“That’s true… But you know the idiom, right? Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for life.”

“Got me there. If some other mess like this happened, you’d be able to use that spell on your own.”

“Precisely. But now the problem is, who can I ask to teach me such advanced Runecraft?”

Mordred crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “If we’re in Denmark, then we’re dealing with famous Heroic Spirits like Siegfried, Sigurd and Brynhildr. Maybe there are others lurking around as well, like some lesser gods or fairies or whatever.”

Connla murmured under her breath, considering the possibilities that Mordred offered. She nodded lightly and said, “You’re right. Still, there’s one thing I want to be absolutely sure of; the exact point of time that we’ve landed in. Depending on what year we’re in, the people available to teach me will radically differ. I didn’t want to risk asking anyone from around here, but there must be some way we can find out without attracting suspicion…”

“Let’s save that for when we get to the next town.”

“I guess so.”

* * *

An hour later, the merchant ship finally pushed out of the harbor and began its trip toward the port town of Frederica, situated in the far southwest of mainland Denmark. They had to sail through Odense Fjord first, then make a hard turn to port and continue west along Lillebaelt Strait for a day. The girls took this time to get some sleep during the late hours of the night, and woke up as the ship reached the halfway point of the voyage.

Connla peered over the side when she saw something moving in the water. She beckoned to Mordred, “Hey, check this out!”

The knight leaned in to see what the fuss was about. They found an entire school of harbor porpoise swimming adjacent to the ship. They could be easily seen in the clear waters even though there was still a copious amount of snow falling around them. Connla had never seen the ocean before, so observing these animals as they practically played chase with the boat filled her with a sense of wonder she hadn’t experienced before.

“Not a bad view,” Mordred said. “But that’s nothing compared to what I saw during the Third Singularity.”

“Where did that incident happen?” Connla asked.

“Right in the middle of Okeanos. I tell you, _those_ waters are something else!”

“I think I heard Alexander mention it a few times.”

“Yeah. It’s that punk’s dream to go there.”

“Hmm… I wonder how everyone’s doing back home.”

While the Servants were reminiscing however, they heard a couple of sailors shouting in alarm. Mordred grumbled while turning around, “Damn it, what the hell are those idiots screaming about… Whoa!”

“What’s wrong?” Connla asked and glanced back.

Most of the deck hands had already fled to the lower quarters, and it became apparent to the girls why. Flying above the boat were two young women who gazed upon the passengers with expressionless red eyes. Both of them wore white hoods and black thigh boots, and wielded identical shields with the same heart-styled crest emblazoned on the front side. The first woman had short black hair and carried a large needle-like lance, while the second lady had medium length pink hair and brandished a more jagged polearm.

“Are they Servants!?” the child Lancer exclaimed.

“Sure looks like it!” her partner said, then shouted to the newcomers, “Hey! What’s the big idea, waltzing in and scaring everyone away!? You got a thing for bullying the weak or something!?”

“Please don’t misunderstand,” the black-haired lady said in a soft, breathy tone. “We have no intention of harming anyone.”

“That’s right,” the pink-haired woman added, her tone sounding more chipper than her partner’s. “Our father sensed your presence in this world and ordered us to seek you out.”

“Who are you?” Connla asked.

“We are Valkyries, the daughters of Odin. My individual name is Hildr, and my sister’s name is Ortlinde.”

“Valkyries…”

“Visitors from an unknown world,” Ortlinde declared, “if you do not belong in this era, then I beseech you both to return to whence you came from.”

Mordred scowled, “Believe me, **_we’re trying!_** ”

“What do you mean?”

“We have no obligation to explain to you! We’ll get out of this hellhole on our own terms, so scram if you know what’s good for you!”

“Wow, such fire in this one’s eyes,” Hildr chuckled. “What do you think, sister? Think she’s good enough?”

“Perhaps,” the black-haired woman murmured. “I can sense the soul of a warrior in the child as well. Otherworlders or not, they are still worthy candidates that need to be tested.”

“What are you babbling about now!?” Mordred snapped. Her face contorted into severe anger over not understanding what the duo were discussing. “If you’re getting any funny ideas, scrap ‘em! You don’t want to screw around with the legitimate heir to Camelot’s throne, unless you don’t mind having your heads part ways with your necks!”

“Temper, temper,” Hildr raised an eyebrow. “Still, such vigor could bring some semblance of liveliness to Valhalla. Most of the warriors we’ve sent there have been complaining of a lack of excitement in their ranks lately.”

“Valhalla…” Connla murmured, then took a step back. “Sir Mordred, we need to be extra cautious. According to Norse folklore, the Valkyries collect the souls of courageous warriors and bring them to Valhalla, so that they may fight in the epic battle Ragnarok.”

“The hell does that have to do with us?” the irate knight wondered.

“Didn’t you hear what they were saying? If they’re calling us candidates, then they probably want to add us to their army of Valhalla’s warriors as well.”

“Shit! We already have enough on our plate! We don’t have time to deal with your nonsense!” Mordred snapped at the Valkyries.

“No?” Hildr grew curious. “What if you are unable to return home? What will you do then?”

“Pah! Nothing is impossible for me! We’re getting out of here whether you like it or not! Take your Valhalla bullshit and stuff it back where it came from!”

“To say that with such vim, you must have many people who care for you waiting for your return.”

“Hell yeah! Master will definitely be happy to have us back, plus I still need to settle my score with Father!”

“I see. And what about you, young one? Do you have people you wish to return home to?”

“Me?” Connla replied timidly. “Well… Sir Mordred and I have the same Master, so of course I want to be by her side. I’m sure Queen Medb and some of the other Servants would be glad to see me safe. And then my father… If he finds out that I’ve gone missing, he might go mad worrying about me. Maybe mad enough to take it out on the other Servants…”

Mordred became tight-lipped as she thought about Cuchulainn and how unpredictable he could be when it came to Connla’s safety. Even she didn’t want to imagine how uncontrollable his rage would be if Connla didn’t come back as soon as possible.

Ortlinde twirled her lance in her hand and declared, “Then prove your fortitude to us right here and now. If you both truly refuse to join us in Valhalla, then demonstrate your conviction to return to those who love you. Nothing less than the greatest of valiance will guide you in your escape from such a predicament.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself!” Mordred hoisted Clarent high and shouted, “Bring it, bitches!”


	8. Hunting For Heroes

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 8: Hunting For Heroes**

**_“GRAAAAAH!”_** Mordred let out a mighty battle roar as she dashed in to fight Hildr. The pink-haired Valkyrie responded by blocking all of her strikes with grace and accuracy. Ortlinde took off to battle Connla on the opposite side of the ship.

“You really are an energetic one! I like you!” Hildr grinned.

“I don’t give two fucks what you think of me! Just get out of my sight already, you goddamn floozy!” Mordred snapped lividly. Her bull-like helmet slid into place around her entire head, obscuring her furious expression.

Although Hildr was a competent close-range fighter, Mordred had the class advantage in addition to possessing the raw strength that could take down golems with ease. As Mordred struck Clarent against Hildr’s spear repeatedly, the Valkyrie realized she needed to make some distance. Mordred forced Hildr to fly back, and she whizzed around in a confusing set of movements to try and throw the knight off guard. Each time she passed by, she struck her lance against Clarent multiple times. Mordred remained steadfast, keeping her feet planted on the deck while either parrying or evading the barrage of sweeping strikes.

“Is that the best you’ve got!? Buzzing around like some annoying fly!?” Mordred taunted. She raised Clarent high and charged it with red-and-purple energy.

“Hey, are you serious!? You can’t go throwing Noble Phantasms around on a fragile ship like this!” Hildr shouted in alarm.

“Hm…”

After some careful consideration, Mordred canceled her most powerful attack and rebutted, “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t need to use my full power to destroy a gnat like you.”

“That’s not what I was aiming for, but whatever.”

“Then how about this instead!?”

Mordred used all of the strength in her legs to leap sky-high, meeting Hildr in mid-air and dueling her in an attempt to force her back to ground level. Hildr landed in a squatting position, then twirled backwards to avoid Mordred’s downward cleave. The knight expected this however, and she darted in to catch the surprised Valkyrie while she was busy recovering. She delivered some deadly blows from both her sword plus a few brawler punches thrown in for good measure, causing Hildr to violently tumble upon the deck. Mordred charged toward the downed Hildr while screaming, _“You really thought you could win against ME!?”_

“Kgh!” the Valkyrie snarled and nimbly vaulted back onto her feet, then took to the skies an instant before Mordred slashed Clarent horizontally where she once was, destroying some barrels full of wheat.

“I don’t think so!” the angered knight shouted and swung again, this time sending a wave of red electricity that detonated against Hildr’s body in a painful-looking display of crackling fireworks.

_“YAAAAAAAAAH!”_

* * *

Meanwhile, Connla conjured a row of Ansuz Runes that sent small fireballs hurtling toward Ortlinde. The warrior maiden flew straight down for her young opponent while effortlessly dodging the onslaught. She swooped in and swung her lance at Connla, but the girl hopped aside and somersaulted across the deck. Then she rushed in to attack Ortlinde’s exposed back, but the Valkyrie turned around and parried with a powerful swing. They then engaged in an intense duel of piercing thrusts and lightning-fast movements to dodge each other’s stabs, ending when Ortlinde pushed Connla back with a mighty blow. The girl back-flipped multiple times and vaulted off the cabin wall just as the Valkyrie charged in. Connla managed to get in a nasty strike when she swung her spear against Ortlinde’s back, carving open some flesh on her shoulder.

“Gh! Not bad,” she murmured, struggling through the pain that she never expected she would suffer. She hovered above the perplexed child and called out, “Father, lend me your power!”

A brilliant light surrounded Ortlinde’s body, then radiated around her as a shockwave. Connla gasped, then took out four Runestones from her pocket and tossed them in front of her in a square formation. The stones shattered and released their power, forming a shield that protected her from the brunt of the shockwave, though she still had to keep her balance from the strong winds being generated. Mini-Cu almost flew off Connla’s back, but he remained strapped in nonetheless.

When the light dissipated, Ortlinde realized that Connla had disappeared. To her surprise, she found the little girl scurrying straight up the mast like an ant rapidly crawling up a wall, causing Ortlinde to fumble in mid-flight. Connla hopped off and slammed her spear against Ortlinde several times, finishing with a downwards smack that sent her plummeting back-first upon the deck. Ortlinde couldn’t lie there for long since she saw Connla falling right upon her, preparing to stab her leaf-bladed spear into her chest. The Valkyrie’s golden wings shone and, through raw instinct alone, carried her away to safety.

“Ugh… This is futile…” Ortlinde realized. She had to admit that she seriously underestimated the young Servant’s combat prowess. She didn’t know what the girl’s True Name was, but Ortlinde had a feeling that Connla originated from either Scandinavian or Celtic mythology due to the Runes she had been utilizing. In particular, the Celts were well-known for producing fearsome child soldiers, so she had to assume she was dealing with a Celt.

She looked over at Hildr just as Mordred struck her down with the lightning attack. Ortlinde flew over to her sister and caught her before she could fall onto the ship.

“Ugh… Sorry, Ortlinde… I got careless,” Hildr grunted.

“As did I. There is no choice but for us to resign from this battle,” Ortlinde said. The injured warrior maidens flew over the ship, and Ortlinde said to the girls, “It’s unfortunate that such amazing Servants cannot be of assistance to us, but we shall respect your wishes and leave you be.”

The two Valkyries departed without another word, and the duo watched them vanish into the horizon. After several tense minutes, Connla fell onto her back and huffed, “Good grief! It’s just one thing after another!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t too shabby there,” Mordred said as she sat next to her. “I can see how you gave your old man such a hard time in your battle against him.”

“It’s only because I had such an amazing teacher. But more importantly, what on Earth are those Valkyries up to? Is it possible that they’re in league with the monsters plaguing Copenhagen? But if that’s the case, they strictly follow Odin’s orders no matter what. Would that mean Odin is behind all of this, and the Valkyries are doing his bidding…?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t give a shit. Let’s just stick to the plan and get the hell out of this world.”

“Mm.”

* * *

Once the captain and his crew got word from the girls that their ship was safe, they continued the trip to Frederica, one of several port towns lining the eastern coast of Denmark’s mainland peninsula Jutland. It took another day for them to arrive, and it was readily apparent to the Servants that their presence was no longer welcome due to them being the ones who caused the Valkyries to attack. Even though they had driven off the assailants, it still didn’t assuage the fear and anxiety surrounding the crew who had witnessed how powerful these two children were. That was why the moment the ship docked in the harbor, they were forced to leave without anyone giving them a proper farewell.

“Damn, they wanted their hands clean of us real fast,” Mordred grumbled.

“You can’t blame them though,” Connla said. “It really was our fault that the Valkyries attacked. If we hadn’t been there, they would have made it here without incident.”

“How the hell were we supposed to know that those vixens would show up? Son of a bitch, things just keep getting more and more confusing.”

“Look, all that matters is that we made it. Let’s just focus on our next objective.”

“Right, finding out if there are any heroes or gods roaming around who can teach you how to find Leylines. I’ll try the taverns and restaurants, and you ask around at the inns and shops.”

“Try not to get drunk while you’re at it.”

“Hey, who do you take me for!? I wouldn’t screw around like that while on the job!”

“I’m just saying…”

With that, the duo split up to inquire anyone they could find. The investigation took up the rest of the day, with Connla not getting many results on her end. They agreed to meet up in the town square where people hung out with each other recreationally. She watched some children playing nearby, while a young couple sat upon a stone slab and made kissy faces with each other. A harried mother raced by with a basket of food, while some men were hauling lumber over to a house that was under construction. Connla yawned, growing increasingly bored of waiting for Mordred, so she laid on her side and took a nap for an hour. She actually didn’t expect to pass out however because the next thing she knew, she felt someone shaking her awake.

“Hey, get up already!” she heard Mordred barking into her ear.

“Oh… You’re finally back,” Connla grumbled and rubbed her eyes. “What took you so long?”

“Geez, about time! Listen to this! Someone told me that none other than Sigurd had passed by here!”

Connla raised her eyebrows in surprise. Any sleepiness that remained was instantly gone. “You mean the legendary hero from the _Völsunga Saga_!?”

“It has to be! Some guys who work at a stable said he was making a short stop to let his horse Grani rest!”

“Did they say where he was going from here?”

“I think they said he had gone south with the intent to pass by Haderslev.”

“He must be heading for Germanic territory then.”

“Why would he go to Germany?”

Both Servants pondered this question for a while. Connla said, “If I remember the saga correctly, Sigurd had slain Fafnir, then ate a portion of the dragon’s heart. Because of its power, he learned of his mentor’s plot against him and killed him. Then he ventured to Mt. Hindarfjall to free Brynhildr, where they would consequently fall in love. That mountain is supposedly in Frankish territory, so if he’s going there right now…”

“I get it!” Mordred exclaimed. “He’s on his way to meet Brynhildr for the first time!”

“I think so too. Oh, but then…”

“What is it?”

“If we’re looking for someone to teach me advanced Runecraft, then Sigurd might not be a good choice.”

“Why not!? He’s perfect!”

“He only learns the art _after_ meeting Brynhildr. She’s the one who passes on the knowledge she possessed from being one of Odin’s former Valkyries.”

“Huh… So what’s the problem?” Mordred confidently put her hand on her hip. “If Sigurd’s no good, then we ask Brynhildr to teach you.”

“You think she will?” Connla frowned. “She only teaches him out of her immense love for him. I seriously doubt she’ll instruct a little kid she’s never met before.”

“If she doesn’t, then I’ll force her to! We’re in an emergency, so we don’t have time to screw around with such delicate bullshit!”

“Geez… I’d rather not resort to needless violence if we can avoid it. I think it’d be better if we catch up to Sigurd and make his acquaintance before he frees Brynhildr. It shouldn’t be a problem for her to teach me if we’re considered his friends after the fact.”

“Then what are we waiting for!? Let’s get moving already!”

* * *

With their plan set, the girls left Frederica behind and began heading south. Unlike with Funen Island, the distance between cities was significantly longer on the mainland, so it would take them around two or three days to reach Haderslev. The majority of the night saw no major incidents, so they spent some time chatting with each other about life in Chaldea and similar mundane subjects. It wouldn’t be until the early morning hours that trouble found them once again.

“Well shit,” Mordred groaned in frustration.

Barring their path was a rather angry-looking equine creature known as a Bicorn. Unlike with regular horses, these animals had deep indigo skin and a long golden horn on their foreheads that they used for skewering enemies. It wasn’t the first time either of them witnessed this type of monster, but they certainly weren’t expecting to see one in this era.

“Boy, this one seems especially furious,” Connla remarked calmly. “It doesn’t seem like it sees us as food, but as enemies that must be exterminated.”

“Who cares? Let’s just take it out,” Mordred said and wielded Clarent.

“Wait, I’ve got an idea,” the Lancer said. “Leave this to me. I’ll give you an excellent chance to strike.”

“Huh? Fine, but don’t go getting yourself hurt.”

Connla stepped forth and used her slingshot to pelt some stones upon the Bicorn’s hide. This drew its attention toward her, and she immediately scampered toward a thick tree the moment it charged straight for her. She hurried up the side of the tree for a few steps, then lithely hopped backwards and twirled like a gymnast over the charging monster, landing on her feet with impressive finesse. The Bicorn’s horn jammed itself deep into the trunk, causing the animal to struggle frantically to free itself. Mordred realized what Connla’s strategy was and chuckled gleefully, finding the situation almost hilarious. She dashed in and cleaved Clarent clean through the horse’s neck, decapitating it with ease.

“There we go,” Connla said, patting some snow off her clothes.

“What a waste of time,” Mordred muttered. “Still, what the hell was that thing’s problem?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just hope we don’t meet any more of them.”

The duo continued on their journey, but it wouldn’t be another 10 minutes before they discovered why they had been attacked. They found a clearing littered with dead Bicorns everywhere, with some even being impaled on what looked to be jagged spears or pikes, as if they were being put on display to terrify any enemies who dared venture too close. It was practically an abattoir, with fresh red blood corroding the pure white snow, and dismembered monsters strewn about as chunks of meat. Standing in the middle of this carnage was a fully armored white-haired man who looked to be in his 40s or 50s.

“Uwah…” Connla gasped.

The man heard her and turned to face the pair. ‘Imposing’ couldn’t even begin to describe how frightening he appeared, with his silver form-fitting armor partially cloaked beneath a blood-red mantle that was held up by a metallic clasp that resembled clutching talons. Spikes protruded everywhere on his greaves and pauldrons, and his gloves were as sharp as claws. His armor was always smeared with blood, giving him the aura of a gore-splattered butcher who relished in carving up his prey. Maybe it was more accurate to say that he was the personification of said butcher’s knife – always sharpened and ready to cut through fresh meat without a second thought.

“Hey,” Mordred called out, “are you the one who took these things out?”

He narrowed his already-thin red eyes and glowered in a hoarse tone, “What if I am?”

“We ran into one of those things earlier, and it was a real pain in the ass to kill. Did you wipe out that entire herd by yourself?”

“This was nothing more than a small measure of staving off my boredom.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, but whatever. Sure saves us a lot of hassle.”

“Hm…” the man took a moment to inspect the girls, then asked, “Perchance, would you two happen to be Servants?”

“Damn straight! I’m a Saber, and the kid here is a Lancer,” Mordred said.

“As I suspected. Children of your age should not be gallivanting in the wild like this. If you are Servants however, then that is a different matter.”

“Hah! Some nerve you’ve got, comparing me to an ordinary child! I’m not one of the best Sabers in the world for nothing, pops!”

“So it would seem,” the fellow frowned. “If only your attitude was as refined as your supposed swordsmanship, them I would be inclined to believe you.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“Wait a second!” Connla exclaimed, then asked the man, “We’re just on our way to Haderslev. But if possible, and I know this is going to sound really strange, could you tell us what year it is right now?”

“Are you implying you are both foreigners to this era?” he wondered.

“We weren’t supposed to be summoned here, so we have no idea where we’ve ended up. We know this is Denmark, but we’d like to have a good grasp of the time period we’re in. We haven’t been able to ask any of the locals, but I think it’s safe to ask a Servant.”

“I see. Allow me to explain then. It’s been eight years since King Gunther of the Burgundians was slain in battle by Hunnic mercenaries that Rome hired, which consequently saw the fall of that kingdom. History dictates that battle happening in 437 AD, so eight years later makes it 445 AD right now.”

“So we’re in the middle of the fifth century, huh? Not even close to where we were supposed to go,” Connla became pensive. The original Rayshift destination was supposed to be Britain in the year 1888 after the events of the Fourth Singularity, especially since Mordred wanted to patrol around the area to make sure everything was okay. She had sensed trouble brewing there before and slew a nameless wandering king as a result, so she wanted to follow up on that incident. For them to wind up practically 1400 years before that time was utterly unfathomable.

“Ridiculous,” Mordred summed it up with that one succinct word and kicked some snow aside brusquely. “Why did this happen?”

“I’d like to know that too,” Connla wondered. “From my understanding, no sort of outside influence should be able to affect the Rayshift destination. Yet as we were traveling through the gate, it almost felt like some huge person had grabbed my entire body and forced me off course.”

“You felt that too?”

“Mm. I really don’t know why though.”

“Damn it. If someone really did change our destination, then they’ll have hell to pay!”

“Hold it right there,” the man declared sharply. “Did you just say ‘Rayshift’?”

“Eh? Y-Yes, I did,” Connla uttered.

His countenance rapidly changed as an eerie smile crept over his face. “My, my. Truly the definition of serendipity. I have been told that a particular Servant would show up via this ‘Rayshift’ method.”

 _“What!?”_ Mordred barked, feeling on edge as she grasped the hilt of Clarent. “You knew we would wind up here!?”

“I wasn’t aware of two Heroic Spirits appearing like this, but I suppose the details are irrelevant. Tell me; which one of you is the Servant named Connla?”

The young Lancer’s heart pounded rapidly. She was absolutely astonished that her name would come up in such an unexpected fashion, and from this terrifying man’s lips no less. She paled so much that her skin tone almost matched the snow all around them. Before she could say anything however, Mordred whispered, “Wait. I don’t know what this freak wants with you, but it sounds like bad news. Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.”

“Uh… Okay.”

The knight boldly stepped forward and declared in a mighty voice, “Who wants to know?”

“Ah, I neglected to introduce myself,” the man said. “My True Name is the Prince of Wallachia, mortal enemy of Mehmed II; Vlad the Impaler.”

“Vlad III?” Mordred scowled. “I don’t know why, but the name sounds really familiar to me…”

“Perhaps we have had a chance encounter in some other world. Well, that matters not. All I am concerned with is who Connla is. I assume that person is one of you two, am I wrong?”

“Yeah, that’s me! I’m the Child of Cuchulainn, Connla! What do you want with me, chump?”

Vlad’s expression hardened, his chiseled features more prominent as his brows furrowed with annoyance. He grit his teeth and snarled, “Nothing from _you_ , whelp.”

“What are you talking about!? I’m the Servant you’re looking for, aren’t I!?”

“There are many kinds of people I detest. Those who fall to greed, mock others’ greatness, deceive everyone around them for their own benefit… In other words, heretics who have turned their backs to the word of God. Rooted within those sins is one common thread however; the ability to lie. Here you stand, offending me with your confident swagger whilst spitting lies upon me!”

“Geez, what crawled up your ass and died, old man!? You said you were looking for Connla, and you’ve found her!”

“ ** _THERE!_** _That_ is what I’m talking about!”

“Uh, helloo~oo!? Mind filling me in!?” She was growing more and more impatient with Vlad’s irrational behavior.

“You fool!” the angry prince snapped. “I have been told that Connla possesses a geas that forbids them from saying their True Name to anyone!”

Mordred immediately realized her mistake and did a facepalm. She looked back at Connla and exclaimed, “Hey, is that true!? You really can’t say your name to anyone!?”

“Y-Yeah…” the Lancer stammered.

“Son of a _BITCH_! Why didn’t you tell me about that!?”

Connla fumbled nervously to give her irate partner a good answer. Vlad stopped their argument from escalating any further as he asked, “Then can I assume with good faith that you’re the actual Connla?”

“Um… Well… Like you say, I can’t actually confirm my True Name, but I really am the ‘son’ of Ireland’s Child of Light Cuchulainn,” Connla replied anxiously.

“Hmmm,” Vlad grumbled deeply. “This is rather vexing. I was not told that the Child of Cuchulainn would be so young. Taken from the cradle and immediately thrust upon the battlefield… Nevertheless, my spear harbors no discrimination for its victims. I have no choice but to challenge you to battle.”

“Why?”

“You need not worry about the reason. In all honesty however, I would prefer if you surrendered immediately and let me take you back to Copenhagen.”

“I can’t. If you’re going to fight me, then I have no choice but to respond equally. It’s one of the conditions that my three geasa imposes upon me, so surrendering is impossible for me.”

“I see. If I may ask, what is the third geas you possess?”

“To never turn back from my journey. My current destination is Haderslev, so any unintended deviation from that course will be punished with a terrifying curse.”

Mordred fumed, “Shit. You could’ve told me all of that earlier.”

“I’m sorry…” Connla murmured despondently.

Vlad conjured his spear Kazliki Bey and declared, “No choice then. Come and fight me with everything you have! If you falter even just a little, you will die!”

He made the first move by charging in at the pair. They jumped back to avoid his vicious stab into the ground, then they split apart so that he would focus on one while the other could find a chance to attack. Since he had declared his intent on killing Connla, he went after the young Lancer first. He thrust his arm about, summoning rows of spikes to shoot out of the ground around her. To his surprise, she was much more nimble than he anticipated as she hopped, darted, cartwheeled, and even snagged one of the spikes as leverage to perform an awkward flip over it.

“Hey, motherfucker! Pick on someone your own size!” Mordred shouted and rushed in to duel him, beating him back with powerful sword strikes. While he was struggling against her, Connla hopped over him and did a drop kick to the back of his head, making him lose his balance and exposing his shoulder to one of Mordred’s sword swings. Vlad suddenly twirled his body aside so that she missed carving his arm off. His confident snarl made her uneasy, so she backed off the instant he shot some small lances right out of his chest. If she hadn’t retreated, she would have been killed instantly from a piercing shot to the forehead.

“Bastard! What the hell are you supposed to be, some kind of porcupine!?” Mordred growled.

“Shut your filthy mouth, wretch!” Vlad shouted back at Mordred, furiously swinging his spear about and making her go on the defensive instead.

Connla grimaced and thought, _Not good. Lord Vlad can cover both close and long distances. How are we going to hit him when he virtually has all of his weaknesses accounted for?_

Mordred skidded to a stop, then shouted at her partner, “Hey! We need to take him together!”

“You mean simultaneously!? How!?”

“Just follow my lead!”

“That’s easy for you to say!”

“HAH!” Vlad screeched and raised his arms high. “I won’t let you!”

“Move, move, _MOVE!_ ” Mordred shouted. She and Connla instinctively danced around an onslaught of jagged lances that pierced the earth all around them at random intervals. As Connla passed by Mordred, she noticed a familiar glowing sigil shining on the knight’s hand.

_The Command Spell from her Bloodstone…? Wait, she’s not going to use one, is she!?_

“With this, our bodies will be in perfect sync! You’ll be following me around like my shadow!” Mordred declared, expending one charge of the symbol. Connla felt some kind of power take hold of her body, as if her arms and legs had been taken over by marionette strings. Thanks to this mysterious force however, she didn’t have to worry about trying to figure out what Mordred wanted her to do.

Vlad noticed what she was doing and gasped in alarm, “Impossible! A Servant using a Command Spell on another Servant!?”

He wanted to shout all kinds of blasphemous names at Mordred, but found himself in a deadly one-on-two match against the Servants, who were attacking him in perfect tandem. They then shot around him like bullets flying in the air, flanking Vlad and passing by him together. They slashed their weapons at his chest while moving about too rapidly for him to counterattack. He just barely managed to block them using a pair of Kazliki Beys in both hands, although his attempt was clumsy and caused him to tumble back a few steps.

 ** _“You’re wide open!”_** Mordred raged. She and Connla slashed at his back in an X formation, finally cutting through his armor and spilling blood all over the place.

“Gaaah!?” Vlad choked up, astonished that they managed to get such a clean hit on him.

The Command Spell’s effect wore off, and Connla regained control of her body. She glared at Mordred and exclaimed, “What did you do that for!?”

“What else? To beat the crap out of this nutcase!”

“You know how precious those Command Spells are, don’t you, Sir Mordred!?”

“Hm!?” Vlad raised an eyebrow and thought, _Did she just say Mordred!?_

“Take it easy,” the knight said. “It’s up to my discretion when to use them, and pounding this bastard into next week is the perfect time! Besides, we still have two left. So long as the rest of our journey goes smoothly, we won’t need to use them!”

“This journey has been a far cry from smooth!” Connla snapped.

“Will you cool your jets already!? I’m not so stupid as to waste them on trivial shit!”

“Hmph,” Vlad scoffed. “Pardon me for interrupting such a heated debate, but you there! Are you indeed Mordred, Camelot’s version of Judas who rebelled against King Arthur and orchestrated the bloody Battle of Camlann!?”

The teenager grinned, as if he had complimented her, and declared, “Yeah! The one and only!”

“What an amazing coincidence…”

“What do you mean?”

“Pay it no heed. Now that I understand both of your True Names, it’s about time I got serious.”

“Ugh…” Connla shuddered as she felt Vlad’s strength increasing. Had he been purposely limiting his power, or was he drawing in latent mana from the atmosphere? She wasn’t sure what was going on, but he had suddenly become a lot more fearsome than before.

“Stay back and give me support!” Mordred commanded, then ran in to fight Vlad head-on. She flailed Clarent about in a violent dervish of swings and blows, hoping to force him away from Connla. While he had his attention with blocking Mordred’s strikes, Connla planted her spear into the ground and used it as a vault to spin her body around, allowing her to deliver a full-strength roundhouse kick to his head. He twirled backwards on his feet, clearly looking angered beyond belief, as he rushed in to stab the girl. Mordred darted in to intercept him, but unfortunately for her, the grinning Son of Dracul immediately focused on her instead and snatched her arm, then threw her with brute force against a tree.

“Knight of Treachery! An incarnation of evil such as yourself is worthy of my retribution of vice!” Vlad shouted. He crossed his arms in front of himself while surrounded in a bloody magenta aura, then spread them apart and shouted, **_“Kazliki Bey!”_**

Dozens… No, hundreds? Thousands? Whatever the number, it was an insurmountable barrage of spears that pierced the earth around Mordred, puncturing her flesh without mercy. The chaos reached its climax when a singular giant form of Vlad’s spear shot through her back and heaved her body high above the ground. She was so stunned that she couldn’t even scream. Adding to the gross carnage was a great spray of blood emanating from her chest that rained all over the snow, dappling the white ground with spots of bright red.

Connla watched her partner be skewered multiple times, and she shrieked at the top of her lungs, _“Sir Mordred!”_

Satisfied with his handiwork, Vlad made his spears disappear, and Mordred unceremoniously plopped onto the ground. He turned to face the terrified child Lancer and said, “The playing field is now even. Though you may not be evil in nature, it is my duty to bring a swift end to your life. If you want to live, then you have no choice but to destroy me. Negotiation is not an option, and you are unable to retreat.”

“Uuh… Gh…”

Connla’s body shivered on its own volition. If a powerful Saber like Mordred had been taken down, she doubted that she stood much of a chance as an apprentice Lancer. Vlad was obviously a much more experienced Lancer than she was, although she had the slight advantage of not suffering any serious wounds yet. Her best bet was to move around so quickly that he couldn’t rely on summoning his spears all the time, which meant he would need to get close to fight her. Then she could plant some offensive Runes on his existing injuries and exacerbate them. Connla wasn’t really interested in killing Vlad though; she just wanted to incapacitate him enough so that she could run off to a safer location with Mordred.

As she contemplated her battle strategy however, all of her thoughts ceased when she noticed streaks of azure light whipping through the air. Not even a second later, the Wallachian prince’s extremities were punctured by several glowing short swords, forcing him to step away from his opponent.

“Nghk!” Vlad snarled and pulled a blue dagger out of his leg. “Who dares interfere!?”

Connla looked around the forest and spotted a cloaked figure darting around in the distance. Before she could make out who they were, they vanished into the deep bushes, but not before hurtling more blades at Vlad. The irate Lancer spun his lance around to deflect the weapons, then growled, “Tch. You should consider yourself lucky, Child of Cuchulainn. It seems you have a guardian protecting you from afar.”

“What…?” The girl was utterly confused by what he meant.

“Facing the two of you in a fair match would have been sufficient, but contending with an additional party leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I shall retreat for now, but I promise you this – we will meet again, and I will kill you.”

With those parting words, Vlad’s body dissipated into shimmering light, and he vanished into his spirit form so he could escape the battlefield. Connla took numerous deep breaths to compose herself, trying to shake off the adrenaline rush of nearly surviving against a powerful foe. Not only that, she had to think about what Vlad just said.

_Someone protecting Sir Mordred and I from afar? That shouldn’t be. We’re complete strangers in this world, so why would anyone…?_

That was when she recalled the caravan trip from Nyborg to Odense, and how there had been several sea creatures killed before they could potentially attack the group. It was a mystery as to who was responsible back then, but with the appearance of this unknown person driving Vlad away, Connla came to realize that it must have been the same person who secretly defended the caravan from the sea monsters. Not only was that strange, but there also was the incident where a needle-like spear that resembled Gae Bolg saved Connla from being eaten alive. That weapon didn’t match the shining blue knives being flung by the unknown assailant.

_Could it be? Is it not just one person guarding us, but two?_

It was the only thing that made sense to her at this point. One person was close by without the girls realizing it, while another party was defending them from far away. The idea dumbfounded her so much that she really didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“H-Hey, you okay?” Mordred groaned, sauntering to her partner’s side.

“Um… I think so…” Connla mumbled incoherently.

“Whoa, you’re totally spacing out. You sure you’re fine?”

“I am…”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more concerned about your injuries.”

“It’s no big deal. But just to be safe, we should take a break. We’ve been dealing with a gazillion problems one after the other in this screwed up world.”

“No kidding. You need some time to heal up. I’ll take care of setting up a fire and hunting some game for us.”

“Sounds good.”


	9. Maiden's Test

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 9: Maiden’s Test**

Back in Chaldea, many eyes were focused on Mordred’s Bloodstone. The moment it unexpectedly shone, one of the analysts exclaimed, “Bloodstone reaction confirmed! Mordred has expended the first charge of the Command Spell!”

“This isn’t good,” Zhuge Liang grit his teeth and narrowed his sharp eyes. “With one charge gone, they only have two left before they lose their connection with Master and disappear for good.”

Medb grabbed the sides of the coffin and tried to shake it while shouting, “Mordred, you stupid bitch! You better not be putting my Connie in danger!”

“Hey, hey, calm down!” Mash implored, pulling the irate queen back. “Cu, do something! She won’t listen to anyone but you!”

“Why me!?” Cuchulainn Lancer snapped. “You deal with her, Caster!”

The blue-hooded druid retorted, “Don’t just dump this on me! Where’s Alter when you need him!?”

“Geez, you’re both pathetic,” a different Cuchulainn grumbled. This one was considered a ‘beta’ version of the Celtic hero, penned for a hypothetical story that was never completed, yet enough people read it that his existence became engrained in the Throne of Heroes. He was considered to be a younger Cuchulainn who was still in training under Scathach, although his voice and countenance were rather different from the Cuchulainn who became much more recognized. Everyone in Chaldea regarded this version of him as ‘Prototype’, regarding his influence in the creation of the story that his ‘older’ self would appear in.

Regardless, Cuchulainn Prototype placed his hand on Medb’s shoulder and said, “Stop causing such a fuss. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“But…” she whimpered. True, she didn’t have any interaction with Prototype since he was at the age before he would wage his one-man war against her forces, but as far as she cared, Cuchulainn was still Cuchulainn, no matter how old he was. She just wasn’t as crazy about going after Prototype as she was with Lancer and Alter due to his immature behavior. That’s why it felt awkward for her to be consoled by this Cuchulainn when she would rather have Lancer scold her.

“He’s right,” Artoria Lancer Alter added. “Sir Mordred may be rambunctious and hungry for attention like a petulant child, but she is not the type to put her comrades in danger. For you to accuse one of my knights of such ill behavior is disrespectful of my position as the king who elected her to be an esteemed member of the Round Table.”

“Like I care about that!” Medb retorted sharply. “What about Connie!? How is _my_ little knight doing!? Is she okay!? Will I ever get to see her again!?”

“Good grief, you’re a thousand times worse than Sir Mordred…”

“Come on,” Prototype ushered the anxious queen out of the Spiritron Chamber, and everyone else breathed a shared sigh of relief.

“That screeching harlot was starting to get on my nerves,” Gilgamesh groaned. “To think that many people compare her behavior to my own is an insult beyond measure.”

“Hah,” Cuchulainn Lancer laughed derisively. “You two couldn’t be more similar if you tried.”

“You sound like you have a death wish, dog.”

“That’s enough, you two!” Mash shouted. “We should be worrying about why Sir Mordred would use a Command Spell!”

Zhuge said, “It could be for any reason. However, Masters should only reserve their usage for combat situations, which leads me to believe that they were caught in a fight with either another Servant or a deadly monster. It’s impossible to know what the specifics are, but if a renowned Saber like Mordred had to rely on a Command Spell, whoever they were facing had to have been quite formidable.”

“I thought it was obvious enough without you needing to explain it, mongrel,” Gilgamesh said. “Well, if any of us more experienced Servants were with her, that would have never happened. The runt must be so weak that she’s become a ball-and-chain tied to Mordred’s foot.”

“ _Now_ who’s the one with the death wish?” Cuchulainn Lancer snarled angrily. His face creased with the characteristic _riastrad_ lines in response to his seething fury.

“Hey, hey, simmer down,” Cuchulainn Caster urged, guiding Lancer out of the chamber while assuring that Connla would be okay.

Gilgamesh remained standing there, arrogantly folding his arms as he muttered, “Humph. I call weaklings for what they are, and the runt is one of the worst.”

Mash thought, _That’s odd. For how little he thinks of Connla, he seems to be talking about her quite a bit._

“More importantly,” Zhuge interrupted them, “if Mordred and Connla had to fight a powerful opponent, there is the possibility that the world they have landed in is either a full-fledged Singularity or a candidate for one that we must correct. It would explain why they have been taking so long with finding a Leyline.”

“I’ve already taken that into account,” Da Vinci said. “With that information, I’ve fine-tuned SHEBA so that it analyzes worlds with only those parameters. There are quite a few worlds that match, but the feedback from Mordred’s Bloodstone should help us out tremendously in finding the specific timeline they’re in.”

“Excellent. I knew you would reach the same conclusion as me.”

“How frustrating,” Lancer Alter grumbled. “My spear is ready for combat, yet I cannot reach the battlefield that Sir Mordred has been thrust upon.”

“Pace yourself, fake Saber,” Gilgamesh said. “With me around, this search will be naught but a passing breeze.”

“I certainly hope so, if only for your sake.”

* * *

In the far eastern shores of Denmark’s largest island Zealand, the land that would become the capital city of Copenhagen was instead home to an unusual medieval-styled castle that didn’t fit with the time period. In fact, it was a bit of an anachronism to say that Copenhagen even existed in Denmark yet since it was established sometime in the 12th century, but it made it easier for those from future times to refer to these areas by cities that would exist there eventually. Nevertheless, this castle made its foundation upon the land, which already was a violation of Denmark’s proper history.

It wasn’t the result of laborers toiling away to build a grand fortress for some monarch or noble. It spawned from the vision of a man who had been born centuries later. He possessed a familiar divine goblet that granted him the power to sculpt this castle with nothing but pure mana. With this stronghold in place, he could begin his reign of terror upon the unsuspecting citizens.

After gathering some fellow-minded people, he orchestrated the ambushing of all of Zealand’s towns by using the sea creatures that had attacked Nyborg. Those monstrosities were the work of one of his cohorts, but the man didn’t actually rely upon them for his own purposes. He instead used the cup of miracles, the Holy Grail, to conjure a small army of mindless knights who would obey his every command without question. These knights were as frightening as the sea creatures, albeit for a much different reason; they stood around seven or eight feet tall, and were clad entirely in thick armor so that any semblance of their human features were completely obscured.

As Vlad returned to this ominous fortress, he noticed several of these guards on patrol. Just from their scent, he realized that they had been the same ones who defended the place a week ago when he departed for his hunt. Their leader had not given them _any_ time to rest, yet the mute knights remained vigilant in performing their duties. Vlad opted not to say anything to them, for it had been proven that they would attack anyone if provoked, other than the man who created them. Not even the Servants who allied themselves with their master were exempt.

He reached what would be the throne room in a normal castle, but this one functioned as a grandiose altar for the Holy Grail. Standing before it was the lord of this citadel – a formidable knight who wore nothing but black armor from the neck down, and had an ebony cape draped over one shoulder. He glanced back at Vlad and plainly asked, “How did the hunt go?”

“Splendidly,” he grinned. “Not only have I dispatched the Bicorn horde that have been haranguing our forces, but I also chanced upon the Servant that our benefactor mentioned.”

“So this ‘Connla’ character has finally arrived as promised?”

“Indeed she has. However,” the Wallachian prince paused for a moment, “the one I faced turned out to be a small child not even a decade old yet.”

“Is there a problem with that?” The question sounded so chilly that it made Vlad’s nerves shudder.

“Not necessarily. I only question what our summoner’s motives are for wanting someone like that slain. I am fully aware of the difference between innocence and guilt, and those were the eyes of a hero who had never shed another’s blood in malice.”

“Guilt or innocence means nothing in this cutthroat world, Tepes,” the knight muttered coldly. “Many people are killed simply because they exist. It happens all the time. Ending some child’s life should have been nothing for you. Such a sacrifice is trivial compared to this opportunity that we have been given.”

“Ever the unfettered pragmatic.”

“And I see you still have a soft spot for upholding moral values when you should have discarded such things long ago. Otherwise you would have not given that Servant the chance to live.”

“Do not mistake my retreat for mere cowardice,” Vlad retorted. “I also had to contend with that Mordred woman you mentioned before, along with an unknown party suddenly showing up to deter me. Both of those Servants may be young, but they are brilliant warriors who have hidden guardians smiling upon them.”

“So Mordred is here… Honestly. I have no idea whether to say that Heaven is laughing at me, or if Hell is giving me a surprise gift.”

“Heaven laughs at no one. It is Hell which toils with our emotions and expectations.”

“If you say so,” the knight muttered. “So what you’re saying is that you were only testing their skills.”

“It is wiser to discover the opponent’s weak spots before going in for the kill. Or what? Did you expect me to underestimate them and get destroyed in the process?”

“That would have at least given me some useful insight into the enemy’s movements.”

Vlad’s lip curled into a repressed sneer as he snapped, “You truly are as despicable as they say.”

“Results are the only thing that matter to me, Son of Dracul. I have long since gone deaf to the screeching of infidels who call me a blasphemous villain.”

“So it would seem. Speaking of which, how goes your end of the ritual?”

“Everything is running smoothly, though as I predicted, utilizing the World’s dwindling mana stores will not be enough. I have no choice but to rely upon Caster to take care of gathering the remaining mana we need. I have my hands full dealing with Odin’s forces.”

“Hm… Remiss as I am to say this, an unhinged maniac like Caster is the perfect tool for you to utilize,” Vlad remarked.

The knight smiled in agreement. “Of course. Granted, I have to worry about keeping his impulses in check, but that is rather simple for me. The man has so many weaknesses that it’s amazing he can even function as a competent Servant. I’m more worried about what business Rider has been up to lately.”

“Did she take off without warning once again?”

“That infuriating woman. If she wasn’t a part of our cause, I would have had her executed already. What does our benefactor see in a lovesick witch who chases after the illusion of happiness whilst wallowing in madness?”

That was when the two men heard a pair of high heel boots delicately clicking upon the stone floor. A breathy, ethereal lady’s voice whispered, “Happiness itself is not an illusion. One can find happiness on their own. The illusion is finding happiness through others. If I wind up loving someone… I might… have to kill them…”

“Rider,” the dark-armored knight snapped, “spare me your melancholic drama and explain to me why you keep neglecting my orders. I told you to gather mana, not to wander around at your leisure.”

“You are wrong. You are not the one who has the right to command me. The only one who has the authority to use me as a tool is the person who summoned me to this nostalgic land. My life exists only to fulfill their wish, and to ensure that I never get to meet ‘that person’ ever again. Our summoner was so kind as to give me this chance. Even so, I am glad they are not here to meet me, or else I might wind up falling in love with them… And when I love someone dearly, I am compelled to end their life.”

The lady stepped into the light, revealing her tall, slender figure garbed in a short black dress with heavy-looking indigo armor clad on top. Her long, flowy white hair also had some blue hues mixed in on the underside, and she carried a thin polearm with an axe-like blade that resembled a hollowed-out purple heart. Her wistful violet eyes became weepier as she moaned, “Do try to understand. My interests are the same as yours. However, I must chase ‘him’ down before it is too late. If I do not, then my presence here is meaningless.”

Vlad asked, “Is that why you manifested as a Rider instead of a Lancer? So that you could pursue your quarry with greater haste?”

“Indeed.”

“Hmph,” the stern knight scoffed. “I really don’t care about any of that, Brynhildr. Listen to me. There are two new Servants who have arrived from another world. If you happen upon them while traipsing about, make sure you kill them without mercy. Vlad has discerned that one of them is Connla, the target that our summoner specified must be assassinated at any cost. The other Servant is Mordred, Morgan’s little bloodhound who laid waste to Camelot. Vlad only messed around with them a bit, but I want you to slaughter them, no questions asked. Bring me their heads as proof.”

“I see. So the Child of Cuchulainn has arrived,” Brynhildr, the tragic Valkyrie maiden, murmured. “Very well. If it is our summoner’s will, then I shall eliminate them.”

“The child claimed that they were headed toward Haderslev when I last left them,” Vlad said. “If you’re planning on an ambush, I suggest you head in that direction. I will assist Caster with gathering sacrifices for the ritual in your stead.”

“So I shall. If you will excuse me.”

* * *

During the remainder of the day, Mordred and Connla found a small cavern that they could hide out in and rest for a while. Since Mordred had been seriously wounded by Vlad’s Noble Phantasm, it was up to Connla to take care of the fire, find some food, and make sure her partner was otherwise comfortable. She didn’t know any healing magic unfortunately, but Mordred assured that she would be all better 24 hours later. They didn’t want to use another Command Spell for healing purposes, so this was the best course of action they could take right now.

As Connla served a basic meal of roast rabbit stew, she asked Mordred, “Are you doing okay?”

“Much better than before,” the teenager stretched, feeling that most of her wounds had closed up. She munched on some food and said, “Damn, this is good. Where’d you learn to cook?”

“Well… It’s not so much I ‘learned’, but that I had to perfect whatever my mother liked. In fact, she expected me to do all of the housekeeping.”

“Even cooking and cleaning?”

“Yeah. I also had to take care of her horses, go hunting, gather for food and wood, and sharpen her weapons.”

“Geez, what the hell was she, an overgrown baby?”

“She was always gone for weeks at a time.”

“You mean she left you all by yourself, even when you were younger than you are now? Where the hell did you live anyway?”

Connla frowned and murmured, “Deep in the Ben Nevis mountains of Scotland. There weren’t any other towns around for hundreds of miles.”

“Son of a bitch… So that’s why you never figured out how screwed up that woman was. And whenever she _was_ around, she would torture you under the pretext that it was ‘training’,” Mordred snarled.

“…”

“Damn. Guess it can’t be helped. At least for me, it was plain as day that my own mother was not right in the head, but that’s because she already gained a reputation for being a witch.”

The knight then leaned in, wrapped her arm around the child’s shoulders, and said, “You could say we’re like brothers in destiny, aren’t we?”

“Brothers in destiny?”

“Both of us were raised by bat-shit insane mothers, only to be murdered by our heroic fathers. Then you should understand how much I hate my father, and how much I want to continue oppressing him until he realizes what it’s like to be looked down upon. Ain’t it the same way with you? Don’t you despise your old man for ending your life and condemning you to be a nearly-forgotten part of his story? Don’t you want him to experience the horror of becoming an obscurity who will never be remembered again?”

Connla calmly took a sip of her water. A fragment of burning wood popped and scattered bright embers in front of her. The short silence between them felt so lengthy that Mordred couldn’t help but appear confused. Soon, Connla responded with two simple words:

“I don’t.”

“… Huh?”

“I hold no grudge against him.”

“Why not?”

The little girl looked up at her comrade and said, “Because I love him.”

“Seriously?” Mordred was utterly dumbfounded from how resolute the child sounded. “Even though he’s the one who killed you?”

“There’s a lot more to it than just my death, you know. All my life, my mother told me about how he was a warrior who had to fight for his country, and so wasn’t able to be an active part of my life. Looking back on it, I’m sure she was trying to tell me that he abandoned me and that I should forget about him. But I never thought of it that way. I always looked to the ring he left behind for me as inspiration that one day, I would get to leave home and see what he was like for myself.”

“Hm… Yeah, I guess I can see where you’re coming from. I really had a lot of respect for King Arthur, even after finding out I was his son. It’s just that, when I finally got to see him face-to-face… When all I wanted was his acknowledgement… He just turned away from me…”

“Why would he do that?” Connla wondered.

“All he cared about was being king. No, not just a king… but a perfect idol that everyone could look up to. He was a shining star, so brilliant that he could light up the world with his inherent radiance, yet so far away that he was beyond anyone’s grasp. At first, I had a hard time believing how insurgents could rebel against Father because he was ‘too perfect’, but when he denied my birthright without saying a word, I could finally see what they were talking about. He sacrificed everyone around him to achieve his ideals. He was so wrapped up with being a wonderful king that he distanced himself from the very kingdom he was supposed to rule. I was certain of it; he cared about his beliefs more than his people. The people only served to be the means for him to enforce his ideals upon.”

“So those feelings led to the Battle of Camlann…”

“Yeah,” Mordred closed her eyes, thinking of the gruesome battle that resulted in her death. “It wasn’t hard for me to rally supporters to my cause. A lot of people were starting to become disillusioned with their own rulers as well. If I couldn’t claim Camelot as my kingdom and rule it better than Father could, then I would destroy that pitiful façade he worked so hard to maintain. That wasteland of bodies was the perfect symbol of my incredible bitterness toward Father. It illustrated how much I and everyone he was supposed to serve were tired of his distant attitude and wanted someone who genuinely cared about them, rather than treating them like spectators for some grand show to conceal how bad the monarchy actually was.”

“Hmm… Now that I think about it,” Connla murmured, “I kind of got that feeling as well after I defeated that Berserker version of Sir Lancelot.”

“See? Father’s ideals were a joke. He walked a path of righteousness by himself and left everyone to fend for themselves, the same way he denied me as being his son! If it were me, I would share everything with my people – laughs, tears, anger, and most importantly the truth! Maybe I would be unreasonable at times, but make no mistake! If anyone attempted to make an enemy out of Britain, they would have to answer to King Mordred!”

Connla stared at Mordred with a blank expression. The knight grinned, “What is it? You look a little pale. Did I say something funny?”

“No. I thought you sought the throne on the sole basis of being King Arthur’s scion, but you put a lot of thought into this.”

“Don’t be stupid! I’m not like those incompetent sons who inherit their father’s role based upon birthright alone! I have the skill and charisma to back it up!”

“So you do.”

“Yep! Such a shame that I didn’t survive my battle with Father, but that’s just how it goes. What about you?”

“Hm? What about me?”

“Don’t you have something you want to accomplish as a Servant that you were unable to in life? I bet there’s a lot, seeing how you’re still just a kid.”

“Well…”

Connla threw more twigs into the fire, then murmured, “I’m not sure. My biggest dream was to meet my father. I was told he had high expectations of me being a warrior of his caliber, so that’s why I trained and worked hard to be like him. It’s unfortunate that Mother warped my dream to suit her desire for vengeance, but at the end of the day, I still got to meet him.”

“That Lancer guy was saying something along those lines.”

“Mm.”

“But your father still killed you. Are you _sure_ you don’t harbor any resentment toward him for that?”

“I’m okay with how it turned out,” Connla said, holding the Mini-Cu doll in front of her and looking into its beady red eyes. “I know Father never fought me out of malice. He just wanted me to calm down and explain my side of the story, not knowing that I bore those three vows which prevented me from doing so. In a way… I got to know more about him in that one day of intense combat than what I was taught throughout my life. The conclusion is that he was victor and I was the defeated. I don’t think it should go beyond that, or things will just get complicated.”

Mordred let out an audible sigh. “Shit… You had it really simple compared to me. Still, I guess that’s the best way a pipsqueak like you should’ve lived her life. You died before you could get caught up in any adult nonsense like hatred, lust, suspicion and all of that. All you had was a purely innocent love for your father, whom you never got to know for years, and he responded by acknowledging you as his child. You actually got to look at him as the man who gave birth to you…”

She suddenly blushed and exclaimed, “Why the hell am I saying something so embarrassing!? Just forget I said that! You never heard that from me!”

“Huh?” Connla tilted her head in a puzzled manner. “I thought it was pretty straightforward.”

“Still, just block it out of your memory! There’s no way I’d talk like that in a million years! Forget it, forget it, forget it! I’m going to bed! Good night, see you in the morning, and all that shit!”

“Um… Okay…”

* * *

In the early hours of the following morning, Brynhildr rode her lovely white steed atop a steep cliff that had a magnificent view of the snowy landscape all around  her. Her breath curled in front of her face as she stared forlornly at Haderslev in the distance. Her horse, with a shimmering opal mane and perfect ivory hide, neighed and snorted as it waited for her next command. As a Lancer, Brynhildr normally didn’t have access to this horse, but since she was summoned as a Rider this time around, she could reach mainland Denmark all the way from Copenhagen at an incredible speed thanks to the trusty horse she once had when she was a Valkyrie.

She conjured her large spear, Brynhildr Romantia, into her raised hand. The unusual heart-shaped pike materialized in a violet shimmer. Then she threw it blade-first upon the snow, causing it to draw a magic circle embedded with Scandinavian Runes. From within the lavender haze, a gigantic humanoid figure made entirely of stone rose out of the ground and brandished a monolithic sword. Tree trunks twisted all around its head and back like a crown of thorns, and shackles around its wrists and ankles served to suppress its brutal strength.

“Go, Spriggan,” Brynhildr commanded the beast. “Your targets are the Son of Arthur and the Son of Cuchulainn. End their lives as painlessly as possible.”

“BRRRRR…” it grumbled, then leapt off the cliff and plummeted to the earth far below. Brynhildr felt the ground rumble a little bit from its landing.

* * *

At the same time, Connla and Mordred continued their trek through southern Denmark. Soon enough, they reached a quaint farming town. Unlike with Frederica, this place was a lot sleepier and more relaxed in nature. Although it was the middle of winter, farmers were still busy raising livestock, while hunters were waking up and getting ready to hunt some animals. The women either helped the men with their duties or took care of other tasks, and some children were out playing. The market wasn’t as impressive, but traveling merchants set up shop to sell their wares to the locals.

“So this is Haderslev,” Connla murmured. “You said that Sigurd was supposed to pass by here, right?”

“Damn straight,” Mordred said. “Thanks to that freak Vlad though, we’re probably _way_ behind schedule. If any more Servants like him show up, we’ll never catch up to Sigurd before he meets Brynhildr at Mt. Hindarfjall.”

“Well, there’s still a chance we can meet them during their honeymoon.”

“That just sounds disrespectful…”

“As long as we explain our situation, it should be okay. Sigurd and Brynhildr are both heroes, so they should understand if we tell them how much trouble we’re in.”

“I sure hope so,” the knight muttered warily. “As much as I’d like to stick around and see the sights here, it’s best that we keep moving.”

“I agree. Not only that, but so many things have been happening to us that I’m afraid of dragging innocent people into our battles,” Connla said.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when’, huh? What a pain in the-”

The moment Mordred said this, they felt the ground violently shake all around them. The girls gasped in surprise while trying to keep their balance. The townsfolk likewise cried out in surprise and steadied themselves. Large bunches of snow came flying off of the surrounding pine trees and fluttered about. It almost felt like some giant lurking deep under the earth rammed its fist upon the Earth’s crust and caused an unnatural earthquake to occur. In this dwindling Age of the Gods, such an idea wasn’t too far off either.

Mordred cursed, then demanded, “What the hell was that!?”

Connla darted her eyes around, then saw what was wrong and exclaimed, “Sir Mordred, over there!”

Both of them saw the Spriggan that Brynhildr had unleashed upon them, after it had made its fantastic crash-landing upon the earth. Connla thought she noticed some kind of purple haze from far above and panned her vision upward. She couldn’t make out Brynhildr’s features from so far below, but she could tell that this woman was a Servant just from her innate radiance and grand stature as she sat upon her magnificent horse.

**_“SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!”_** Mordred raged and brandished Clarent. She was so livid, she could’ve spontaneously combusted from how searing hot her blood had gotten.

“Uuh,” Connla trembled and stepped back a bit. She realized that the Spriggan had its eyes focused solely on her, meaning she was its primary target.

Mordred likewise figured this out and darted in front of the girl, shouting, “Stay behind me!”

“But the town…” the child Servant moaned as she looked at the terrified civilians fleeing from the scene.

“YAH!” the knight let out a frenzied battle cry and leapt to face the Spriggan head-on. She had to use all of her strength just to counter a regular sword swipe from its massive stone blade. She twirled about in mid-air and struck again, hitting the blunt side of the broadsword this time. It bunched its hand into a fist and punched her entire body, literally knocking her senseless as she went tumbling into the forest.

As the monster tried to go after Mordred, Connla hurled a bunch of stones from her slingshot to draw its attention to her.

“I’m the one you want!” she cried out, then raced away in the hopes of drawing it away from Haderslev. She utilized a series of Ken Runes to boost her speed, plus Protection From Arrows to help her dodge any surprise blows. Although Spriggans seemingly possessed no speed to make up for their immense strength and juggernaut size, this one apparently could keep up with Connla as she retreated into the distance as quickly as she could.

“What the-!? That idiot! **_This way, you fat bastard!_** ” Mordred screamed, charging Clarent with red lightning and hurling the energy straight for the golem’s backside. Although she carved a good chunk of rock out of the monster, it didn’t seem fazed as it continued its pursuit of Connla. She wanted to catch up, but the truth was that she wasn’t as fast as Connla. She needed a way to be able to outpace the speedy little Servant, and that was when an idea came to her.

Mordred raised her arm, and what looked to be a decorated yellow-and-blue surfboard materialized upon her hand. This was Prydwen, a legendary ‘boat’ that she had procured (read: stolen) from King Arthur’s treasury, which she used during her brief stint as a Rider-class Servant back in the summer months. She had become adept at surfing the waves, and the speeds she could achieve were what inspired her to bring Prydwen back out for this occasion. True, snowboarding wasn’t the same as surfing, but she wasn’t going to let such details deter her.

“All right, partner!” Mordred said to the board. “Show me if you can conquer the snow as well as you can the waves!”

The knight ran fast, then thrust Prydwen beneath her feet and rode along the snowy hills at incredible speeds. There was a much greater risk of her slamming into one of the countless trees that she whizzed by, but she deftly worked her way around them while catching up with Connla and the Spriggan.

“Connla!” she shouted.

“Sir Mordred!?” the child Servant exclaimed in surprise. “Wh-What in the world is that thing!?”

“Never mind that! Just grab on!”

Mordred reached her hand out to grab Connla’s, and she pulled her onto the surfboard to ride behind her. The little girl was used to running these speeds herself, so experiencing such a thrilling ride without doing anything was rather terrifying for her. The knight laughed with joy and shouted, “This ain’t no Prydwen Tube Riding, but it’s close enough! **_YEE HOOOOOH!_** ”

_“Heeeek! Get me off this thii~iing!”_ Connla screeched. She had to hold on to Mordred’s waist as tightly as possible, while the Mini-Cu ‘backpack’ flailed about on her back. All this while, the Spriggan was chasing after them, keeping its pace thanks to its muscular legs providing boosts of speed each time it took a step.

“This would be a lot more fun if we didn’t have Fat ‘N Ugly gunning after us!” Mordred snapped.

Connla looked back and realized that the Spriggan was hunched forward, readying to use its entire body to knock them down like what a bowling ball did to bowling pins. She frantically looked around to see if there was anything in the environment they could use to shake off the creature, and that was when she spotted something ahead.

“Go right!” Connla shouted. Mordred did so moments before the Spriggan rocketed past them like a mountain-sized torpedo, barely missing the duo. The girls slid straight for a boulder buried beneath a thick layer of snow that functioned as a makeshift ramp. While Mordred continued the jump, Connla leapt off and readied her spear in a stabbing formation as she fell above the confused Spriggan. She jammed her weapon right into its head, then channeled a series of Ansuz Runes upon the blade. The monster’s cranium started to light up in its mouth, nostrils and eye sockets as each Rune ignited one at a time, culminating in a fantastic explosion that scattered bits of stone, clay and mud everywhere.

Connla toppled about to regain her footing, landing clumsily near the downed beast. She watched it disintegrate into an indecipherable mound of dirt, then sighed and collapsed onto her butt. The momentary adrenaline rush completely exhausted her, so she took a moment to calm herself. Mordred rode up to her and got off Prydwen, then examined the scene and said, “That’s another one down.”

“Somehow…”

“Geez. Why do you keep putting yourself in danger like that? I had that thing perfectly under control!”

“I know, but I didn’t want the village to be caught in the crossfire.”

“Look, taking care of others is all well and good, but you need to look out for yourself first and foremost. No one else is gonna do it for you, so stop doing such reckless things and let me take care of the monsters. After all, you’re my only ticket out of this hellhole. If you go getting yourself killed, I’ll have no way of returning to Chaldea. Got it?”

“Uh… Y-Yes, I’ll be more careful,” Connla stammered.

“Good. Now then, let’s get back on track and find Sigurd.”

“We should still be careful. I spotted a Servant just before we were attacked.”

“Was it Vlad?”

“No. I couldn’t make her out, but it was a lady on a horse. I’m guessing she summoned that monster and sent it to kill us. If that’s the case, I’m sure she’ll pop up again and give us more trouble.”

“A horse, huh? Not good. No pun intended, but we better hoof it on Prydwen then if we wanna be ahead of her,” Mordred grumbled as she readied the surfboard for another excursion. Connla got on behind her, and the duo raced along the snow in the hopes of reaching Mt. Hindarfjall before danger could find them again.


	10. Clash of Pure White

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 10: Clash of Pure White**

Mordred and Connla continued snowboarding south, approaching the area where the city of Åbenrå would be today. The Saber was completely focused on maintaining her acceleration and weaving around any obstacles, while the Lancer looked around for any signs of approaching enemies. For a couple of hours the trip was uneventful, but they knew it wouldn’t last long when they heard a horseman chasing them down.

“Sir Mordred! Incoming Servant at eight o’clock!” Connla reported.

“Tenacious bitch!” Mordred snapped as they saw Brynhildr riding her steed several hundred meters behind them. The horse wasn’t so much flying in mid-air as it was clopping its hooves along a series of Runes that its owner generated for it. Mordred asked her partner, “Can you tell who it is?”

“I’m not sure,” the girl said. “She looks like one of those Valkyries we fought earlier, but something seems off about her. She seems to be more… human-like than the others…?”

“Think you can shoot her down?”

“I can’t! I’m not used to riding around at such speeds, plus she’s much too agile for me to snipe!”

“Shit! No choice but to fight her two-on-one then!”

Before Mordred could try to disengage Prydwen, Brynhildr raised her spear and surrounded it in a torrent of swirling flames. She prepared it in a throwing position, then hurled it like a javelin even though its design was too unwieldy for such purposes. The flaming lance shot into the ground just in front of the girls, and the fire instantly melted the snow to reveal a large patch of bright green grass.

 ** _“Are you kidding me!?”_** Mordred shouted, unable to stop her board before it hit the patch and came to a sudden stop, tossing her face-first upon the grass.

“UWAH!?” Connla screamed as she was sent sailing over Mordred. She lost her momentum and crashed violently, tumbling along the ground around 50 feet before she finally came to a stop. She laid there for a moment and shuddered in pain – she had bit her tongue and hit her head upon a buried rock, but would otherwise be fine. She heard galloping hooves hitting the ground and looked up to see Brynhildr looming over them, staring at the girls with a forlorn expression.

“I’m so sorry,” the elegant Rider murmured sadly. “I had hoped your deaths would be instantaneous, but you dodged my attack and suffered such egregious wounds. How shameful that my inaccuracy is to blame for your woeful injuries.”

 _“Oh, just shut the fuck up!”_ Mordred raged. Her nose bled, she had a bruise on one eye, and her anger was genuinely impossible to describe at this point. “Who the hell do you think you are, waltzing in and trying to off us without an explanation!?”

“My intent is to kill you both, but I suppose you deserve to know a little of why such misfortunes have befallen you. I am Rider, otherwise known as the former shieldmaiden Valkyrie Brynhildr.”

“What!? That’s impossible!” Connla exclaimed in total surprise. “You shouldn’t be here! You’re supposed to be trapped in your eternal slumber at Mt. Hindarfjall right now!”

“The ‘living’ version of me is. However, I am here as a Servant.”

“I don’t understand… You’re both alive and a Servant in this era?”

“I hearken from another world, much as you two do.”

“Oh… So you’re a stranger like Sir Mordred and I.”

“Yes. My Master somehow made contact with me in my world and promised me the opportunity to change my past in this world. They even performed the miracle of transporting me to this place, so that I may undo the mistake of my beloved awakening me from my slumber.”

“You want to prevent that from happening!? If you’re trying to do that, then-!”

“I must kill him. I must kill the Sigurd who belongs in this world before his eyes make contact with mine. I must never allow love to happen between us…” Brynhildr murmured.

Mordred wheezed in laughter at the absurdity of such an idea, then scowled, “Yeah, no, that ain’t happening, lady. The kid and I have business with him, so you’re not getting past us.”

“Business? You would interfere with my cause for your own personal gain?”

“Hell yeah, I would! Sigurd’s the only one who can teach Connla some kind of fancy spell that’ll help us get out of here! If you go offing him now, we’ll lose our ticket back home!”

“I see… Connla…” the woman whispered, then turned to face the girl. “So you’re the Child of Cuchulainn? Oh my… This is rather troubling. Vlad was right; you possess such a small frame, yet the courageous soul of a warrior truly shines within you.”

“Lord Vlad?” the child Servant uttered, disregarding Brynhildr’s compliments. “Are you acquainted with that man?”

“Indeed. We are comrades pursuing the same objective, albeit for different reasons.”

“What, is he trying to ‘undo’ something about his history as well?” Mordred demanded.

“Something like that. Do not worry, though. There is no need to concern yourselves with such a matter when my unfaltering love will end your lives painlessly.”

“Bwah hah hah hah! Damn! For a tragic heroine, your bullshit is pure comedic gold!” the knight laughed some more, then wielded Clarent. “Come on then! I’ll send you packing the same way we did to Vlad!”

“That will not do,” Brynhildr frowned. “If his retreat has taught me anything, it is not to take either of you lightly. My apologies, but this is for the greater good.”

She raised Brynhildr Romantia before her and conjured a series of violet summoning circles similar to the one before. One by one, a horde of six Spriggans rose from the hidden depths and towered over the Servants, snarling their ever-ugly glares at the girls. Mordred couldn’t resist the urge to gasp in desperation, unable to comprehend how Brynhildr could accomplish such a ridiculous feat. The monsters stomped their massive feet in the snow, leaving behind gargantuan imprints.

“S-Sir Mordred…” Connla whimpered.

“Tch. That goddamn cheater,” the knight growled under her breath. “Listen to me. I’ll keep these bozos busy with a distraction. The moment they’re blinded, you make a break for it and find Sigurd as fast as you can.”

“But that would mean-“

“Leaving me behind, I know. But this is the only option we’ve got. You have to find him, tell him what’s going on, and come back with him in tow. I’m sure his presence will frazzle our tragic damsel friend here no problem.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“You want me to force you with a Command Spell?”

“Uuuh… Okay. The moment I see my chance, I’m running.”

“Be quick about it,” Mordred hissed, then took a few steps toward the enemies and taunted, “All right, scumbags! Who wants to be the first to die!?”

She charged Clarent up with red-and-violet energy to indicate her bloodlust, and the Spriggans reacted by charging at her as a pack. She scowled in alarm and unleashed Clarent Blood Arthur upon them, illuminating the immediate area with intense flashes of red and purple lightning. Brynhildr shielded her eyes from the brilliant chaos, then looked up when it died down and saw that while her monsters were badly wounded, they remained unfaltering in their advance. Mordred jumped back to avoid one stomping its giant foot upon her, then swung her sword at its ankle to sever the limb.

“Oh? The child…” Brynhildr murmured to herself, realizing that Connla was long gone. “This will not do. I must end her life as swiftly as possible.”

She commanded her horse to rear up, neigh, and gallop into the forest. Mordred saw this and screamed, “Where do you think you’re going!? Your enemy’s right here!”

She attempted to intercept the Rider, but two Spriggans blocked her path and swung their huge stone claymores over her. She parried them with her immense strength, but the effort left her fatigued and unable to stop Brynhildr. The knight swore aloud at her own failing, yet had no choice but to do her best against the creatures, praying that Connla would be able to do something about the former Valkyrie.

* * *

At the same time, Saber was rushing toward the battlefield upon his black steed. He had fallen behind in his pursuit of Mordred and Connla because of the boat ride from Funen Island to the mainland, so he lost some time asking the locals if they knew where the girls had headed. After hearing of them heading for Germanic territories, he followed their trail to Haderslev and learned of the attack there from the shaken villagers. He was surprised by how quickly they were moving, which meant to him that they had a particular destination in mind and were trying to get there with great haste.

_They wouldn’t be trying to find the ‘me’ of this world, would they?_

Saber was perplexed by the idea, but didn’t allow it to slow him down. Besides, his Master had also mentioned something about a ‘calamity’ that was about to befall this world. He had no idea what it was supposed to be, but he believed the best way he could find out was to remain vigilant in staying near Mordred and Connla as an obscured guardian.

He arrived at the outskirts of Mordred’s battle with the Spriggans, and he witnessed Connla fleeing further south by herself. More disturbing to Saber however was the sight of a familiar lady going after the child Servant on her own horse. He suppressed a horrified gasp beneath his black mask, but the blue eyepieces shone in response to his abject shock.

_This can’t be! Why is Brynhildr here!?_

Saber was in momentary disbelief. He had no idea what was going on anymore. Even worse was that the two girls had split up for whatever reason, making his job of protecting both of them much harder. He had to make a choice; either protect Mordred or Connla. He remained rooted there for a minute while debating with himself. If he chose one, he’d have to leave the other to fend for herself. His eyes were focused on Mordred’s battle though, and he saw firsthand just how amazing the Knight of the Round Table actually was in a fierce fight. Even though she was taking on six Spriggans by herself, she was somehow holding her ground with her incredible strength and superb reflexes.

_The Son of Arthur will be all right. It is the Son of Cuchulainn that I should be more concerned with. I know how powerful Brynhildr is, and if she gets her hands on that child, her life will be over in an instant. If anything, I must find out what Brynhildr’s purpose is in hunting these two down the same way Vlad did._

Saber commanded his horse to gallop around the battlefield, remaining unseen so as not to cause any unnecessary alarm for Mordred.

* * *

Connla’s short legs scurried along the snow, and her breathing came out as frantic wheezes. She almost resembled a panicked rabbit, kicking up white powder all around her as she desperately fled from some hungry wolf. That ‘wolf’ happened to be Brynhildr, who caught up with her thanks to following the convenient line of footprints left in the snow.

“Love… Hate… Love… Hate… Love… Love… Love…” the Rider murmured to herself while she and her horse flew high above the child. She aimed her spear downward and called out, **_“Brynhildr Romantia!”_**

She rocketed straight for Connla. Both she and her steed were wrapped in beautiful violet, blue and white lights that resembled wings around the tip of the spear, with sparkling glitter shining from the animal’s galloping hooves. She closed her eyes forlornly, expecting to be responsible for a bloody death and not wishing to witness it. Luckily for Connla, she already had Protection From Arrows activated and performed an incredible leap into the sky just moments before Brynhildr made impact with the ground. A mighty explosion of pure white mixed with azure and lavender hues detonated around the Rider. As the energy dwindled down, Connla performed an agile upside-down flip and rotated her body so that she was facing back at Brynhildr, then landed safely upon the snow and took out her polearm.

“Oh my,” Brynhildr said. “You actually dodged it. I am impressed… and at the same time, disappointed… with myself, anyway.”

“Lady Brynhildr,” Connla urged, “can I ask you something?”

“What is it, little one?”

“When you were brought to this world, was it through a Rayshift like what Sir Mordred and I did?”

“Ray… shift? I am not familiar with the term, but… Oh, yes… I believe Vlad mentioned it once before. The ability to transport from your present era to any point in human history in order to correct anomalies that would destroy the Foundation. So that is the world you are from. Such a noble cause… one not fitting for a sinful woman such as myself…”

“How did you get here then?”

“Did I not already tell you? My Master brought me here. They enveloped me in wings of pink to carry me across the cosmos. My compatriots likewise experienced the same thing.”

“Pink…” Connla gasped, remembering what happened when the Rayshift went awry. The only conclusion she could come to was, “Then the one who changed our destination must have been your Master…”

“I am not certain myself, though their magic was certainly on par with Father’s,” Brynhildr admitted. “Perhaps it is entirely possible that my beloved Master brought you here on purpose to be killed by me.”

“Please tell me! Who is your Master, and why are they trying to assassinate me!?”

“I do not know. I truly, truly do not know. All I am is their spear. I must fulfill my end of the promise and bring death to you. Do not struggle, and I will make it as painless as possible.”

Connla could not allow that to happen. Her geas aside, she was determined to return to Chaldea no matter how hard she had to fight. Both Servants were in top condition, although Brynhildr had expended a considerable amount of energy for her Noble Phantasm. If she acted quickly enough, Connla could kill her before she could regain her strength and attempt Brynhildr Romantia again. It probably meant having to use her own Noble Phantasm, which she had been doing her best to avoid this whole time, but she believed the risk would be worth it.

With that plan in mind, Connla dashed in low and swiped at the horse’s torso, hoping to first dismount Brynhildr. She caught on to the idea and quickly blocked the strike, then another, and another. As a Rider, her priority was to take care of her mount. She decided that since staying on the ground would endanger the stallion, she conjured some Runes for it to run upon like mini-platforms. That happened to be a big mistake; Brynhildr had no idea that Connla knew the Celtic version of the same magic. The little girl ran up a flight of ‘steps’ made out of Runes towards the horse’s underside and punctured her spear into its heart. The animal couldn’t even let out a death cry as it plummeted back to earth with a surprised Brynhildr in tow.

“Oh dear…” the lady whispered in concern. Now that she had lost her mount, her capabilities as a Rider were not as impressive as when she was a Lancer. But if there was anything similar between Odin’s daughters and Scathach’s pupils, it was their ability to be versatile and to adapt to any situation. Just as Connla could use basic magic and slinging stones apart from her spear, Brynhildr had access to more advanced spells and plenty of skills related to anecdotes about her.

Neither of them said anything to each other as they rushed in to duel. As Brynhildr challenged Connla in an incredible battle of spears, the Rider couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about the time she trained Sigurd to be a greater warrior than before. There were several times when she crossed blades with her beloved husband, gauging his abilities and giving him advice on how he could improve. She felt tempted to do the same with Connla; although the child was amazingly fast and almost impossible to hit, her spearmanship was rather sloppy compared to Brynhildr’s. Of course, it would be too much to ask for someone so young to have perfect skills anyway, so she expected this to be the case.

“Gh!” Connla grunted, growing frustrated with how Brynhildr seemed to be growing in strength.

What she didn’t realize was that this was the result of an inherent skill that the former Valkyrie possessed – Brynhildr’s Beloved, an ability that many who didn’t understand her way of thinking found difficult to explain. In essence, she had her own personal definition of who fit her standards of a hero. What those criteria were was a proprietary secret, although Sigurd could be treated as the ultimate basis for her judgment. If anyone met her standards, her strength would exponentially increase so that she could overpower such a hero and bring death to them. This was a reference to how she infamously murdered Sigurd after he had been brainwashed to betray her, followed by her killing herself.

Whether or not Connla actually met the conditions for Brynhildr’s Beloved could not be established conclusively. For one, the ability almost exclusively applied to men, with only a very select few women chosen who happened to be genderswaps of legendary figures. Granted, Connla was remembered as a boy, but that was because Cuchulainn wanted to have the truth of her real gender lost to history. For all anyone knew, she could just be a regular Heroic Spirit who didn’t stir any kind of emotions in Brynhildr’s troubled heart, and that using her incredible strength was just her way of fulfilling her mission.

As hard as Connla tried to fight Brynhildr, the lady’s weapon had become so heavy that it could have fallen through the earth should she accidentally drop it. This was evidenced by how Connla had to leap back with all her might from Brynhildr as she slammed her spear like a hammer upon the area she stood on. The colossal crater left behind was enough to fill it with water from a nearby river and create a decently sized pond.

_This is madness! Trying to take her on is suicide!_

Connla began to panic. She knew that such emotions would only make her lose focus, but never before had she encountered someone so lovely who could cause such amazing devastation on her own. Scathach could be an easy comparison, but the queen of the Land of Shadows fought with grace, fluidity and flexibility in mind. This was just a Berserker-like rampage being caused by a woman with an eternally broken heart. Connla took some deep breaths to steady herself, but trying to calm down while fleeing for her life proved to be too much for the inexperienced Lancer.

Brynhildr channeled her mammoth strength into her legs and charged right for the flabbergasted child, pointing Brynhildr Romantia at her. Billows of snow whirled around her in a funnel. Her approach was so fast that Connla barely had any time to react. The spear came devastatingly close to puncturing her chest and skewering through her organs. The little girl’s senses were blank with terror as she stared at the shining purple pike shooting for her breast.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, a brilliant flash of aqua-colored light rushed through the gap between the two Servants. The stupefied Brynhildr stumbled away, leaving Connla to collapse backwards and roll along the ground. She couldn’t see what was going on for a few seconds, but she heard more futuristic buzzing sounds, followed by Brynhildr’s horrified gasp and an unknown man’s battle cries. The young Lancer’s heart was so tight with anxiety, she was sure she had been stabbed through and that she was simply a walking corpse at this point. She ran her hand along her chest area to see if she there was any pain. To her surprise, everything seemed to be intact, and she wasn’t losing any blood whatsoever. She looked up to see who had come to her aid.

Standing between Connla and Brynhildr was a tall man fully armed in black clothes and armor, with a purple cape billowing in the winter wind. Strapped to his back was a huge broadsword glowing with the same aqua color she saw before, along with several shining blue daggers hovering in front of him. Although his lower face was covered with a dark mask, his chilly blue eyes were framed by a pair of modern-styled glasses - definitely an anachronism in this Norse era of gods and titans, yet they seemed strangely natural when he wore them.

More surprising than this strange knight’s appearance was Brynhildr’s widened eyes of pure, unadulterated shock. From Connla’s perspective, the woman looked as though she had been suddenly frozen inside a block of ice.

“What…? Why are _you_ here…?” the horrified Rider yelped under her breath, unable to raise her voice. “Y-You should be… going to Mt. Hindarfjall… and freeing me from Father’s curse…”

“Eh?” Connla murmured. There was only one person that Brynhildr could be referring to, and that made the child just as confused as the Valkyrie.

“Sorry, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Saber retorted with a smooth, deep voice. “That ‘me’ you’re referring to is the one who belongs in this world. Unlike him, I am a Servant who has been summoned to put an end to your ambitions, Brynhildr.”

“This can’t be… Oh, but it is…! You’re really here, aren’t you!?” the woman panicked, unsure if she should be elated or devastated. “You’ve come to stop me… I should be happy, but at the same time… I can’t… I can’t look upon your face…”

“That’s enough. Put down your weapon. I don’t want to do this either, but if you insist upon endangering this girl’s life, I’ll have no choice but to stop you.”

“Ah… I wish I could. I really wish I could! But… But I made a promise to my Master. They gave me the chance to rewrite my history.”

“To rewrite your history? What do you mean?”

“By killing you before we ever get to meet.”

Saber was absolutely astonished by what Brynhildr’s goal was. The warrior maiden pleaded, “Please, don’t get in my way! I have to do this, for both of us!”

He seethed angrily, “ _Don’t be ridiculous!_ Killing the ‘me’ of this world will only make things worse! No one will be left to free you from the Pale Rune of Punishment! You will suffer for all eternity without anyone to rescue you!”

“Maybe… Maybe that’s what I deserve… for being such a horrible woman…”

“Don’t say that! No matter what you may try to do to change your history, I will appear to stop you! I’ll show up as many times as it takes until you see the error of your ways!”

“Haaah…” Brynhildr gasped sullenly. “I… I shouldn’t… I can’t stop now. The wheels are already in motion for this era’s demise. My path has been set. With my Master giving me the gift of altering my past, I must fulfill my end of the deal. At least let me kill that poor child. Let me release her from the weight of sorrow and torment that burden her tiny shoulders, before the fires of true Hell rain upon this world.”

Saber glanced back at the stunned Connla, then glowered, “So that’s what this is about. You made a deal with someone – if you murder the girl, then you’d be given the chance to alter your past.”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here. I must continue. For the sake of a better future, I must dirty my hands with the blood of that child and your living self.”

The knight’s icy blue eyes shone with fervor as he exclaimed, “I thought I could reason with you, but you’ve truly gone mad. You would endanger the life of an innocent Servant, along with the entire course of human history, just so you can force a different ending to happen. Then there is only one possible course of action for me to take!”

Saber drew two swords out of their scabbards and wielded them in a reverse grip, then bolted toward Brynhildr and performed multiple stabs and slashes at her. Even though she was strong enough to level a mountain, he still managed to push her back with some well-aimed strikes that penetrated her defenses and carved into her perfect ivory skin. He whizzed around and leapt directly above her, conjuring some knives that he punched down, piercing her back multiple times.

“KYAAH!” Brynhildr wailed. She threw her head back, whipping her long white hair in an arc and crunching her back muscles to forcibly extract the daggers out of her flesh. In her mind, she was not ready to take on Saber just yet, given what his true identity was. Furthermore, this was not the inexperienced living version of him, but one of the strongest Saber Servants in the world who had been summoned specifically to be her antithesis. She had no clue who his Master was, although she had a few guesses. Either way, none of that would matter if she kept trying to fight Saber like this.

“Sorry, but I must end this!” he shouted and punched more knives at her, then rushed in with his larger broadsword and performed some sweeping strikes that left a trail of aqua light behind. Brynhildr flipped back, now on the retreat this time as she vanished in a mesmerizing array of white, blue and purple dust.

Saber grunted, frustrated that he let his enemy escape. Normally he would take chase, but his top priority was making sure Connla was okay. He approached the bewildered child, who was still sitting there watching the battle, kneeled over her and asked, “Can you stand?”

“I’m, uh…” she gulped pathetically, but managed to shuffle back to her feet. Saber was so tall, his kneeling height practically matched her standing height, which made her feel a little uncomfortable.

He inspected her, then said, “Good. It doesn’t look like you’re hurt.”

“Mm,” she mumbled, then asked, “By any chance, are you perhaps… Lord Sigurd, the hero of the _Völsunga Saga_?”

“I am, though I’m not the same as the one who lives in this era. I believe you heard me say that I’m a Servant summoned here to fix the abnormalities plaguing this world.”

“I did. But there was so much that you and Lady Brynhildr were talking about that I didn’t understand all of it.”

“It’s fine. I have an overall grasp of the situation that you and your friend have been thrust into.”

“My friend…” Connla mumbled, then yelped with a jolt, “Sir Mordred! Oh, this is terrible! I left her behind to fight those golems! Is she okay!?”

She tried to rush back toward the other battle, but Sigurd grabbed her arm and exclaimed, “You fool! Do you want to get yourself killed!?”

“But I have to go help her! She can’t possibly fight all of them on her own!”

“She told you to run because you would be an encumbrance to her! You need to have as much faith in her skills as respect for your own lack of strength!”

The child Lancer whimpered. No matter how much she wanted to aid Mordred, Sigurd would not let go of her until she understood her position in this matter. She settled down eventually, though her worried expression only seemed to intensify. Sigurd let out a resigned sigh and muttered, “I understand. I’ll go with you to help that woman. But you need to stay behind me at all times, got it?”

“Why? How come you’re going through so much trouble for someone you just met?”

He smirked a little and said, “Actually, I’ve been tailing the two of you ever since you both wound up on this world.”

“Oh… So the one who killed those sea creatures earlier, and the person who saved me from Lord Vlad… That was you?”

“Yes. This era’s been plunged into chaos and disorder, so my Master instructed me to keep the two of you safe until you returned home. To that end, I’ve been secretly killing monsters sent by the enemy’s forces that were pursuing you without your knowledge.”

“I see. That would certainly explain a few things.”

“I apologize if I caused you any concern. But never in my wildest dreams would I discover that Brynhildr wanted you dead as part of some shady bargain. As much as I wished to remain hidden in order to ambush her, I had no choice but to make my presence known to you if I was to safeguard you.”

Connla tilted her head curiously and wondered, “You said you were instructed to watch over us. By who exactly?”

“Let’s save that conversation for later,” Sigurd pushed his glasses up his nose. “You want to go help your partner, don’t you? Then let’s get moving."

* * *

Meanwhile, Mordred stood there in a hunched pose, breathing so hard that her face was nearly obscured by the white puffs of her breath. Most of her armor was destroyed, including the battered helmet that revealed most of her wounded face. Clarent had some visible chips running along the blade and hilt. She glared at the two remaining Spriggans, who weren’t faring much better either. Through sheer perseverance, skill, strength, and some luck, Mordred had managed to kill four of the six monsters. Even better for her was that she hadn’t consumed any Command Spells from her Bloodstone, but now she was seriously debating using it for the second time.

“Shit… This isn’t funny anymore…” the exhausted knight growled. “Goddamn cockroaches don’t know when to call it quits…”

The Spriggans lumbered toward her. Although their swords were destroyed, they still caused massive damage to her with their hands and feet. One golem balled its hand into a fist and punched at her. She snarled and hopped over the arm, then ran up along it while digging Clarent into the stone, causing mud and clay to spurt out like blood. She reached the shoulder bone and cut the arm clean off, leaving the Spriggan to stumble toward clumsily. Mordred charged Clarent with energy again and slashed at its spine, killing it instantly. However, when she was still in mid-air, the final Spriggan barreled for her and raised its foot over her, creating a dark shadow that concealed the cloudy grey sky.

**_“F-!”_ **

Before Mordred could let out a curse, the foot came crashing down upon her and crushed her with several tons of force. Snow rushed out everywhere in a circular formation, partially revealing the grass beneath. The monster lifted its foot to see what happened to Mordred. She was still intact thanks to her armor, but her eyes were wide open after she passed out from the sheer agony and shock of virtually all of her bones breaking at once. Her arms and legs were splayed out, and Clarent lost any energy that had been charged.

The Spriggan attempted to kill her off by stomping on her repeatedly, but a series of fireballs and shining blue daggers pelted its backside and knocked it away from her. It looked back to find Connla and Sigurd rushing toward them, and it growled in frustration from being interrupted. As they hurried to intercept and rescue Mordred however, an unexpected thing happened; Brynhildr reappeared the same way she disappeared and stabbed her lance through the Spriggan’s head, decapitating it with ease. Once the creature was dead, she quickly snatched Mordred under her arm and used her Runes to fly away, not sparing a word for the incoming Servants.

 _“Sir Mordred!”_ Connla screamed and tried to run after Brynhildr.

“Curses!” Sigurd snapped.

The Rider was simply too fast for the child to catch up though, and she could only crumple upon the snow while watching them disappear into the sky. She bit her lip and whimpered, “This can’t be happening…”

Sigurd kneeled next to her and put his hand on her back, saying, “Don’t worry. The Son of Arthur is still alive. Brynhildr must have taken her away as insurance so that you would not flee.”

“Insurance…?”

“In other words, she’s a hostage. But that also means she’s more valuable to the enemy alive than dead. There’s still a chance for us to save her.”

“…”

He sighed, “You’re exhausted. Spend the day resting, then we will go after them in the morn.”

Connla paused. She was too excited to calm down, but she also knew that Sigurd would overpower her if she tried to pursue Brynhildr by herself. After some careful consideration, she nodded and said, “I understand.”

“Good. Just out of curiosity though, I’m wondering why you and Mordred were headed for Mt. Hindarfjall. Is there something you need to ask of the living versions of myself and Brynhildr?”

“… Oh, that’s right,” she realized, then explained to him all about how she didn’t know advanced Runecraft, and that she and Mordred were searching for the Sigurd and/or Brynhildr who belonged in this world to teach her the dowsing spell. He wondered why she would need such an ability, so she told him about wanting to return to her home world, plus some details about Chaldea and the people residing there.

Sigurd said, “I see. If that’s the case, instructing you will not be an issue for me. It should serve as a helpful distraction for you as well. Pay attention, because it might be a little difficult for someone of your novice skill level to even grasp the fundamentals of this pattern.”

He sat her down and began instructing her on the sequence of Runes she needed to use. Just as she expected, it was a lot harder for her to memorize than the basic spells she had been using until now. Every type of Runecraft required a combination of sigils, and using the wrong symbol even just once within the entire formula would wind up either causing the spell to fail or do something completely unintended. It had taken Sigurd the better part of the afternoon to show Connla how to search for the Leyline with Runes, but she soon got the hang of it and was able to draw the symbols without his assistance.

“You’re a fast learner. I can see why Scathach saw you worthy to be one of her pupils,” Sigurd nodded and kneeled upon the snow. “Now let’s try it for real. Since we need to search a wider area, we should do it together in order to improve the spell’s radius.”

“Okay,” Connla said, then squatted next to him.

One by one, they drew the Runes in the air simultaneously, summoning the Earth’s power to essentially ‘tell’ them where the nearest Leyline was. Their minds melded with the earth itself, and they felt the flow of mana coursing through the planet like blood vessels. Wherever those ‘vessels’ converged upon the surface would be the Leyline they needed. Their hearts beat to the same rhythm as the planet’s, synchronizing them with its own vitality for only a few seconds. That was all they needed to get the information they wanted, and they canceled the spell.

However, Connla’s expression was not full of hope. Her skin became as pale as the snow around them, and she gasped in both fatigue and disappointment. Sigurd likewise frowned hard and declared, “Goodness. As if things couldn’t get any worse…”

“I don’t believe it,” the little girl breathed, then stared eastward. “The nearest Leyline is in… Copenhagen…”


	11. Her Secret Weapon

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 11: Her Secret Weapon**

Pain wracked every molecule within Mordred’s body. As she stirred awake from a deep slumber, intense agony flared up in her arms, legs and torso each time she moved even slightly. She groaned and opened her eyes, finding herself inside a plain stone room with only a door on the opposite side. She wanted to get up and reach for the doorknob, but her limbs refused to even budge slightly. That was when she realized her wrists and ankles were bound by shackles and chains so tightly that she probably didn’t have any blood flowing to them.

“Gh… This is just great…” Mordred grumbled to herself, recalling how she was defeated when the Spriggan crushed her beneath its foot. Her bones certainly didn’t feel like they had been fully healed yet, which made her restraints even more excruciating to tolerate. Although she was thoroughly embarrassed with herself for allowing this to happen, her worries for her partner outweighed any shame she was feeling.

“Connla?” the knight called out. No one answered. The cell she was imprisoned in was completely empty, save for that door which kept tempting her with the prospect of escape. If Mordred was in better physical condition, she definitely would have struggled with every ounce of energy she had. Right now though, she didn’t even want to think about budging an inch.

A few minutes later, the doorknob clicked, and the door creaked open. Vlad stepped through and examined the prisoner for a moment. After some silence, he finally said, “We meet again, Son of Arthur. Though I believe you’d want our reunion to be under better circumstances.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I thought that crazy bitch was out to kill me and Connla. What’s the point of her abducting me like this?”

“Normally yes, she would have brought an end to you two. However, Brynhildr told us all about Sigurd rescuing the child from her fury.”

“Sigurd? So Connla caught up with him?”

“Not quite. The one you were after is the version who lives in this era. Apparently, this Sigurd has been summoned as a Servant to assist you both, and is safeguarding the Son of Cuchulainn. I wouldn’t be surprised if Odin had something to do with this, although Brynhildr isn’t so sure of that. Regardless, with Sigurd now included in the equation, she decided to bring you here in order to lure both of them to this place.”

“It won’t be long, either,” they heard the Rider’s breathy voice murmur. She delicately clicked her metal heels upon the grimy stone as she approached the captured Saber. “They’ll soon see… that the Leyline you have sought… has been right here this whole time…”

“Fuck,” Mordred cursed. “What the hell are you people up to?”

Vlad’s smile was a mix of mirth and sinister undertones. “Didn’t Brynhildr tell you? We are strangers from different worlds who have been brought together to change our futures.”

“Are you bastards in league with Solomon?”

“Solomon?” Brynhildr wondered curiously. “I do not recall hearing such a name…”

“Neither have I,” Vlad admitted. “Our Master is apparently a Magus of the highest caliber who can make contact with Servants through their dreams. They tempt people like us to bring Denial upon our destined futures, and transport them from one dimension to another to make it possible.”

“Bring… Denial?” Mordred whispered.

“I could not tell you if our Master is indeed a god, a demon, or someone who has been influenced by either. All I know is that in exchange, we are ordered to seek out the Son of Cuchulainn who appears in that world and assassinate her, no questions asked. After that is accomplished, we are free to do as we please in our quest of rewriting our futures.”

“So that’s why the kid’s always in danger. Bunch of sick freaks you are, targeting a small child so you can do something so selfish.”

“Maybe we are,” Brynhildr whispered. “I do not concern myself with how others judge me though. I am a loyal Servant for the First Denialist, and am thus a Denialist myself.”

“Denialists, huh? And your boss is the first one then…”

Just then, they heard another man’s voice interject, “I see we’re having quite the lively conversation here.”

Mordred’s heart seemed to pound out of her chest. She’d recognize that bitter, scorning tone anywhere. Another set of footsteps approached, and from the darkness of the dungeon emerged the black-armored man with pale skin and razor-sharp eyes. She shuddered and clenched her teeth hard while glaring at the baleful knight.

“It’s been a long time, killer dog,” he smirked. “Feeling a bit nostalgic, are we?”

“Damn you!” she shouted and tried to break free. The shackles around her wrists and ankles were too strong for her to break free of however.

“Stupid bitch. Haven’t you noticed what those restraints are?”

Mordred glanced at one of the chains and realized that it looked eerily familiar. She gasped, “The Iron Commandments! It really is you-!”

* * *

The next morning, Sigurd and Connla rode on his dark horse Grani, heading back northward to pass by Haderslev once again. Their intent was to reach the town of Vejle, situated further north than Frederica, and then sail straight east across the Kattegat and venture the same way through Zealand Island to reach Copenhagen. It would take a few days for them to make the journey, and with each step closer to their destination, Connla’s anxiety would intensify just that little bit more.

The moment they found out where the Leyline was, they couldn’t shake the feeling of utter dismay looming over them. The enemy had Copenhagen occupied and had kidnapped Mordred in order to lure the pair to their death. The original plan hinged on Connla discovering the Leyline in the hopes that SHEBA would find this world right away, and then Ritsuka could come with her Servants to take care of things here. With the Leyline under the enemy’s control however, things would not be so easy. Connla could have opted to look for another Leyline, but it had been detected much further south in Germany. With Mordred being held hostage, leaving Denmark was entirely out of the question now.

The young Lancer didn’t know what to say. She ultimately had no choice but to go to Copenhagen and confront the enemy. Unfortunately, she was both too weak to fight multiple Servants and too oblivious to their real plans to understand what they were after. With her original itinerary completely ruined, she struggled to think of something, _anything_ she could do to survive against these ridiculous odds. No matter how much she troubled herself though, she couldn’t figure out a solution that didn’t involve putting herself at tremendous risk.

“I understand that you’re upset, but you mustn’t give in to despair,” Sigurd assured. “We’ll think of a way to contend with this.”

“Like what?” the despondent girl moaned, holding Mini-Cu close to her chest for comfort. “Sir Mordred and I fought both Lord Vlad and Lady Brynhildr, and it was difficult to survive even when we were working together. If we consider that there’s also a Caster who’s been sending those monsters out to devastate Zealand, we’ve got at least three Servants to kill. We’re already outnumbered and outmatched, and I don’t even know if those are the only Servants we’re dealing with.”

“Hm. Your words may be bitter, but they are the truth. Luckily, the one who summoned me fully apprised me of the enemy’s numbers and what their objective is.”

“You mean you know who they are!?”

“Indeed. You are already aware of Vlad and Brynhildr, along with the Caster. Actually, they are the only Servants who are subordinate to another one – a Berserker.”

“A Berserker?” Connla’s blood vessels seemed to freeze instantly. She dreaded the possibility that the mastermind would be Cuchulainn Alter, just like what happened during the Nevada Singularity.

“From my understanding, he doesn’t get summoned as a Servant often, and isn’t the type to operate on the front lines,” Sigurd raised an eyebrow. “Even so, he is a brilliant tactician and a master of interrogation and torture.”

“Oh…” the girl murmured and relaxed a little, realizing that that description didn’t fit her father at all.

“He was a Saber in his original world, but has somehow become a Berserker in this one. He is a knight who is known to have never suffered any injuries during the few times he engaged in combat. He is also one of the catalysts who sparked his kingdom’s demise when he discovered that one of his fellow knights was having an affair with the queen.”

“Wait a minute,” Connla gasped. “That sounds like someone Sir Mordred told me about!”

“Yes. He is known as the Knight Who Knows No Wounds, and the infamous secretary of Camelot who united the Round Table in their hatred of him…”

* * *

 ** _“Agravain!”_** Mordred shouted in total disbelief.

Indeed, the black knight who stood before her was the Knight of the Round Table, Agravain. With him making his presence known now, she had every idea of what was going to happen next.

“You look like you’re resigned yourself to what’s about to come,” Agravain smirked a little. He addressed the other two Servants and said, “Leave us be. We have much catching up to do.”

“Very well. We shall continue our duties,” Vlad said, and he and Brynhildr departed.

The dark knight strode up to his captive half-brother and murmured, “Are you prepared for what I have in store for you, killer dog?”

“As if I have a choice. If there’s anything you’re known for, it’s getting your jollies off of the suffering of others,” Mordred grunted.

“Please, don’t lump me in with such commonplace psychopaths. Everything I do is for achieving a vision. Back in Camelot, King Arthur saw value in my methods for getting enemies to confess. In this world, well…”

He took out his sword and jabbed it right under her ribcage. She clenched her teeth and struggled to stop herself from screaming. After a few insufferable seconds, he extracted the blade and said, “I’ve done the same thing to some of the Valkyries I captured earlier, though their resilience certainly tested my patience. I was left with no choice but to dispose of them.”

“The Valkyries…? You mean the same ones who attacked Connla and me?” she gasped.

“Oh? So you’ve had an encounter with Odin’s daughters as well?”

“Yeah. I thought they were working with you nutjobs, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“They’ve been a real hassle for me to deal with. To that end, I’ve summoned the ideal knights to formulate an impenetrable fortress that not even Valhalla’s best warriors can hope to breach. Even if you’ve got ideas of escaping, you won’t be getting far once I set my men upon you.”

“Damn. Your marbles may be out of place, but at least you’ve got your ducks in a row. More so than usual, it seems. So how exactly did you go about summoning your little army anyway? It doesn’t sound like you’ve conscripted anyone from these lands.”

“Of course not,” Agravain scoffed. “The people of this world are only good for their od.”

“Od… So you’re trying to collect mana from human sources. That’s what those god-awful sea monsters are doing for you, aren’t they?”

“Correct. Even with establishing my base upon this Leyline in Copenhagen, the amount of energy needed for the ritual will not suffice. If I intend to fill the Holy Grail to capacity, I will need an entire country’s population worth of people to die.”

“I knew it!” Mordred gasped, horrified that her amoral half-brother possessed the cup of miracles that not even King Arthur could find. “So this world’s a candidate as a potential Singularity!”

Agravain raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure of what you’re talking about. All I know is that I received the Holy Grail from the First Denialist, and they informed me of an effective strategy for making my goal become reality. To that end, I chose Denmark as my base of operations due to this Leyline and its strategic location. Of course, I could use the Grail’s powers to summon as many knights as I desired, as well as erect this fortress in my image.”

“Fucking tyrant. You must be living the dream, huh?”

“Hmph,” he scowled. “You should know what I am like. I am nothing but a hard worker who strives with all his might to make the impossible come true. Even if that meant helping to maintain King Arthur’s fantasy world from the shadows, it was satisfactory enough for me. As I swore my fealty to him, I came to realize that being a king meant shouldering all of the blame that those common rabble and ignorant nobles would shove upon him. I’m sure you know how much Morgan wanted either one of us to be king so she could control us from behind the scenes.”

“Damn well I do. I was born as a contingency plan after you failed Mother’s expectations.”

“Well, after seeing how much King Arthur suffered without saying a word, I decided not to pursue the throne and to let him keep it. That way, I would not be held responsible for any atrocities I committed. Arthur would forgive me, and the countrymen would blame him instead. That is why you should not call me the tyrant of these foreign lands; that kind of person is still a king, and I am not fit to bear such a weighty title.”

“Whatever,” Mordred grumbled. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to wax eloquent on me.”

“No, I didn’t. I actually have a proposal for you.”

“Oh yeah? Well whatever it is, you can shove it back up your assh-”

He jammed his sword back into her ribcage again, forcing her to howl from sheer agony again before she could finish her insult. He growled, “I’d watch my words if I were you, mutt. Now listen carefully, and I am only going to say this once. The Son of Cuchulainn’s death was supposed to be part of the plan. Your presence here was not. In that vein, I’ve been considering just banishing you back to your world. I’ll send you back home, and we’ll never meet again. You’ll be free of this interrogation to go destroy whatever other kingdoms meet your foul gaze.”

“Ugh… I-In exchange… for what…?”

“You catch on quick. Vlad told me that you possess Command Spells that allow you to order the Son of Cuchulainn the same way Masters can order their Servants, yes? Then it’s simple. All I want you to do is to use a Command Spell to force your friend to commit suicide.”

Mordred couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Masters could do that? She had never heard of something so outrageous.

“You look surprised,” Agravain said. “Is my proposition too much for you? Or is it that you cannot fathom Masters betraying their Servants like this? Believe me; it is actually all too common. In the world I come from, I was the Servant to a Master who shared the same ideology as me, and we fought together in a Holy Grail War to achieve victory. However, when it came time for us to make our wish, my Master commanded me to end my own life.”

Mordred wasn’t sure what to say in retort.

He continued, “That bastard… There were absolutely no warning signs either. Their countenance was as solid as stone. It felt like I was looking upon our king once again… That soulless, inhuman, wonderful king who was as radiant as a star and as destructive as a dragon. Not once did my Master give me any hints that they would backstab me like this. Only at the very last second, when we were the only ones standing upon that battlefield, did he finally show his true face. As my essence was absorbed into the Holy Grail, he used all of the mana gathered from us Servants to make his wish.”

“Is there a point to this sad story of yours?”

“Not that _you_ would understand, being surrounded by so many Servants who are obedient to a kind and caring Master,” Agravain snapped, snarling his teeth at his half-brother. “It is my second Master, the First Denialist, who reached out to me as I lingered within the Grail. They retrieved me before I could return to the Throne and sent me to this place. They gave me hope – a second chance for me to make my wish come true, while completely unhindered by their own selfishness as a Master. The only thing they wanted was a particular Servant’s death, and nothing more.

“How could I say no to that? Someone finally listened to me! They understood me! They did not ask for much from me, and have given me the freedom to make my dream a reality! No one, not even King Arthur, gifted me with such an opportunity!”

“You’re completely bonkers, chump,” Mordred snarled. “So what is this ‘dream’ of yours anyway? Why do you want to fill the Holy Grail with so much mana?”

“That’s not for you to know, dog! You’re to command the Son of Cuchulainn to kill herself, _right now!_ ”

Suddenly, a wad of spit plopped against Agravain’s bare forehead. Mordred smacked her lips and grinned, “Not in your life, motherfucker.”

“…”

Enraged beyond words, yet maintaining his stoic façade, Agravain stepped back and snapped his fingers. The door opened again, and three imposing knights marched in wielding various torture implements. The black-armored man walked away from the scene and commanded his men, “Inform me once she changes her mind.”

* * *

By the time evening arrived, Sigurd and Connla were several miles outside the border of Vejle. They hoped that nothing would happen once they reached town, but it was not meant to be. Grani neighed in alarm and came to a surprise halt, lurching the two Servants forward unexpectedly.

“W-What happened!?” Connla exclaimed.

“Tch!” Sigurd scowled angrily as he looked up at the darkening sky.

Blocking any further passage was an army of Valkyries like the two that Mordred and Connla encountered earlier. This time though, there were probably around a hundred warrior maidens wielding just as many variations of polearms; lances, fauchards, glaives, halberds, javelins, partisans, and everything in between. Each of the ladies had their own hair colors and hairstyles as well, with some wearing the white hoods as well, but all of their uniforms and shields were exactly the same. Leading the charge were Ortlinde and Hildr, along with a third Valkyrie who had long blonde hair and wielded a traditional pike.

“Halt, Son of Sigmund!” the blonde lady commanded. “What do you think you are doing, attempting to march into enemy territory with the Son of Cuchulainn!?”

“Sorry, but we have no time to debate, Thrud,” Sigurd said. “We are in a hurry.”

“Do not speak such foolishness. Though we may detest you for taking our sister Brynhildr away from us, we have a sworn duty to protect these lands from the foreign evils that assail the populace. We are the only ones who stand a chance against Agravain and the Holy Grail that he possesses.”

“The Holy Grail…?” Connla whispered in surprise. This was the first time she was hearing such a thing, so it came as a real shock to her.

“I understand your position,” Sigurd replied to Thrud, “but I cannot relinquish this child for you to take to Valhalla. She is determined to return to her home world with her friend, and I will fight with everything I have to make sure they can escape. Besides, are you not aware of Brynhildr working with Agravain as well?”

The question seemed to upset Thrud, but she maintained her composure and answered, “We are aware. Our beloved sister is conspiring to initiate Ragnarok with those fiends.”

 _“Ragnarok!?”_ Surprise after surprise assailed Connla like a volley of pebbles being thrown at her. Although she wasn’t entirely familiar with Scandinavian folklore, even she knew what Ragnarok was; the Twilight of the Gods, or the final destruction of the world that would see the end of many Norse gods like Odin, Loki, Freya and the like. She wasn’t sure if it had already happened in her timeline, but clearly it had not in this one if that was the enemy’s ultimate objective.

Sigurd was likewise taken aback. His cherished wife, seeking to end the world before its predestined time? He clenched his teeth and screamed, “That’s absurd!”

“It is the truth,” Ortlinde said. “The one we care about wants the world to end now, rather than let time take its intended course.”

“That’s why we wanted to recruit Sir Mordred and Connla into Valhalla; so that they could help us thwart this threat,” Hildr admitted.

“Oh,” Connla murmured sullenly. “So that’s why you two confronted us…”

“That offer still stands, you know. We won’t hold it against you, so why don’t you come with us?”

“But…”

“She will not,” Sigurd declared. “She is my responsibility, not yours.”

Thrud waved her arm dismissively and shouted, “Your opinion is irrelevant. Since the enemy has captured Sir Mordred, Father ordered us to enlist Connla so that she will not be used as a sacrifice for the Holy Grail.”

The young Lancer’s heart raced when she heard this. Her mind went blank, unable to imagine the idea that Mordred could already be dead. She had to remember that it wasn’t the case though; if Mordred, who possessed the Bloodstone, were to be killed in this world without reuniting with Ritsuka, then Connla would disappear since she would lose her connection to the Bloodstone as well. Connla was still intact though, which meant that Mordred had not met her end yet.

While the child Servant was lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize that the battle had already started. Before she knew what was happening, most of the Valkyries shot beams of pure light from their spears right at Sigurd and Connla. They exploded all around them simultaneously, blasting Grani back and throwing the pair off the steed’s back. Connla tumbled in the snow, and Mini-Cu fell off her back. She grabbed the doll and held it close as she watched Sigurd get to his feet and rush in to fight the incoming Valkyries.

* * *

Back in Chaldea, everyone who was involved with the investigation grew anxious after days passed without any signs of Mordred or Connla detected. SHEBA had narrowed down the search thanks to the help of Ritsuka’s best Casters and clairvoyants, but their efforts had not paid off yet. Not only that, but if an urgent mission came up during this, the staff would reach their breaking point in terms of exhaustion and willingness to work. Some people only had a few hours of sleep this whole time, especially Roman. The Servants had to pick up most of the slack since they didn’t require rest the same way normal humans did.

Medb would frequently visit after a day of fooling around with some friends she made in Chaldea. Admittedly, her desire to play and tease the other Servants was her way of trying to get her mind off of worrying about Connla, yet the hollow feeling in her chest refused to subside. Her friends were starting to notice this due to her lack of concentration at times, plus her disinterest in things that would otherwise fascinate her. She didn’t even have the energy to chase after any of the Cuchulainns, which made them somewhat concerned as well (and that was saying a _lot_ ).

Once again, the queen on Connacht entered the Spiritron chamber and waited for Da Vinci to have a spare moment. She pulled the inventor aside and asked, “How is it going? Any word from them yet?”

“Nothing. But don’t worry. Like I said before, we’re doing the best we can. Once we find Connla, I’ll make sure to tell you and the Cus first.”

Medb held her hands together and moaned, “I’m so scared for Connie, I think I’m going to be sick. If only Cu Alter were here, then this would be a lot easier for me. I could hug and squeeze him and cry over his shoulder to my heart’s content. Oh, Cu… Where could you be, my one and only Cu…?”

“Ah. I almost forgot about him,” Da Vinci remarked casually. “Actually, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make.”

“About what?”

“I’ve known where he’s been this entire time.”

“Really!? Where!?”

* * *

Connla continued to watch, completely slack-jawed, as Sigurd struck down Valkyrie after Valkyrie. The women warriors were relentless though – when one was eliminated, one or two more would show up to take their place. Sigurd growled, realizing the futility of trying to take on a force that could replenish itself. Even so, he wasn’t just focused on fighting; he was desperately thinking of a way to ensure Connla’s escape so she could continue to Copenhagen alone. Yet he wasn’t sure if the child was physically and mentally capable of venturing into enemy territory without any support.

Connla stared down at the snow dejectedly and moaned, “This is impossible… There’s no way we can win…”

“Don’t give in!” Sigurd exclaimed. “If you surrender and let them take you to Valhalla, you will never be allowed to leave! I promise I’ll bring you to Copenhagen, so stay strong!”

She barely registered what he said as she whimpered, “Am I never going to make it home? Do I have no other choice? What would Sir Mordred want me to do…?”

_“Connla!”_

She was too lost in despair to listen to him. She hugged Mini-Cu and shivered uncontrollably. Clearly she was in no condition to fight, so Sigurd stood between her and the Valkyrie army. She swallowed and gasped erratically to fight back the tears, but one droplet escaped her eye and hit the doll’s head.

That was when something truly unexpected happened. A strange red light shone around Mini-Cu, catching Connla’s attention.

“Uh…?” she uttered as she realized the toy was light enough to float out of her hands. It hovered in front of her while the crimson aura throbbed around it like a heartbeat. A couple of the Valkyries noticed this and swooped in to interfere, expecting the energy to be some kind of attack. Then a ghastly aura of blacks, greens and purples swirled around the doll, concealing it for a moment before a blood-red streak of energy shot out of the cloud, almost knocking Sigurd aside by accident. The darkness dissipated, leaving the plushie to plop upon the snow.

Spots of pure red liquid spattered the white landscape, followed by the assailing Valkyries’ dead bodies crashing upon the ground and fading away. A huge figure with a familiar spiked tail rushed at the women warriors and cleaved through them with his crimson spear that looked more like a rigid rose vine than a proper polearm. Connla immediately knew who he was, and she was lost in a momentary bout of confusion and shock.

“What the hell!?” Hildr shouted. “No one told me about this!”

“A third Servant?” Ortlinde wondered.

Just as she said this, the newcomer slit another Valkyrie’s throat so badly that he nearly decapitated her. Two more warriors flew in to attack him from both sides, but he leapt high into the air before they were ready to strike, and he cut through them like they weren’t even there.

“This is bad. He’s slaughtering our sisters without remorse,” Thrud grumbled.

The monstrous man landed in front of Connla. His grin was vicious, showing off his numerous spiked teeth, while he scowled in a low tone, “Which one of you wenches wants to die next?”

Hildr asked, “Who are you?”

“Just a Servant who secretly came along for the ride. My allies call me Cuchulainn Alter. You can call me your maker.”

“So you’re Ireland’s Child of Light! But what in Loki’s name is up with that disgusting armor!? There’s no lore stating you ever wore anything like that!”

“I don’t think that’s what you should be worrying about right now, you candy-haired floozy.”

“Floozy!? Now that’s just low!”

“Sister, please,” Ortlinde implored Hildr to calm down. “You shouldn’t be roused by such juvenile insults.”

“Looks like someone has their head on their shoulders. More than I can say for some of you,” Cuchulainn remarked with a slight chortle. “Now then, who wants to bully the kid next? I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The black-haired Valkyrie asked him, “What is your connection to the young one, Hound of Ulster?”

“What else? She’s my one and only child.”

“But I thought you had a son.”

“That’s just what everyone remembers her as. Now the two of us are Servants of Chaldea. Anyone who tries to force her to leave our Master’s side will not be living to see tomorrow.”

“Ugh…” Ortlinde’s expression turned sour as she and the other Valkyries realized how difficult it would be to fight both Sigurd and Cuchulainn while trying to conscript Connla into their ranks. Although the Valkyries had numbers on their side, the two Servants were powerful enough to tear through them without much effort.

Sigurd took a few steps back to stand next to Cuchulainn, then asked, “I know this probably isn’t the best time to ask, but may I consider you a friend or foe?”

“Hmph,” the Berserker grunted. “I’m not exactly sure what your deal is, but you kept the kid safe this whole time. As a modicum of thanks, I’ll cut you some slack and let you fight alongside me until I find out what your plans are.”

“Very well.”

Cuchulainn looked back at Connla with concern and quietly asked her, “You okay?”

Connla stared in abject astonishment at him, still wondering how the hell he was standing in front of her even though a few minutes had already passed. As much as she wanted to bombard him with questions, her throat was so tight that she couldn’t say a word. Her eyes became weepy as a couple of tears dribbled down her cheeks, and she bit her quivering lower lip.

So much had happened at once that she barely had the time to comprehend any of it. Discovering the Runes on her brain; getting lost in a foreign Singularity with Mordred, whom she barely knew even just last week; fighting strange monsters, the Valkyries, Vlad and Brynhildr without understanding why; the enemy Servants specifically targeting her for assassination; Mordred’s kidnapping and Sigurd’s strange vow to protect her; the enemy’s goal of initiating Ragnarok with the Holy Grail; and Cuchulainn Alter’s sudden appearance. She had no idea what to think of first, which caused her mind to collapse from the sheer weight of it all. Without warning, she suffered an immediate mental meltdown and cried out in panic, falling onto her knees to reserve her energy for crying.

**_“WAAAA~AAAAHH!”_ **

Cuchulainn’s heart seized up when he heard her screaming and bawling. He scowled a bit, unsure of whether to fight the Valkyries or to get her to safety. Sigurd and the Valkyries paused – everyone practically lost their will to fight once they heard the child’s incessant crying, and they figured this was not the time to duke it out. Thrud raised her hand and ordered her troops, “Return to your posts. My sisters and I will speak with them.”

The other female warriors besides Ortlinde and Hildr departed without a word of objection. She faced Sigurd and said firmly, “Although I don’t approve of you being here, the situation demands that we put our differences aside and come to a compromise, lest we wind up crushing that child’s spirit any further.”

“More like you don’t want to anger her father and lose more of Odin’s warriors,” he said.

“Perhaps. We honestly did not anticipate that such a powerful Heroic Spirit would camouflage himself inside the child’s doll.”

“Neither did I.”

“Geez,” Cuchulainn snorted. “This kind of nonsense is exactly why I needed to follow Connla secretly. The kid just seems to be a beacon for trouble.”

“It is not nonsense!” Hildr objected. “We honestly thought that the child would be a worthy addition to Valhalla’s resistance group, but she wouldn’t go along with us!”

“Of course she wouldn’t. She’d never abandon Chaldea so easily.”

“She should’ve just told us her situation.”

“You didn’t give her the chance to. She and Mordred refused your initial offer, so you tried to enlist them through force instead. Then you pop up again when the kid is stranded all by herself and pull the same goddamn stunt while she’s vulnerable. What the hell did you expect, that she would just give in and go along with your plans? She has to worry about rescuing her friend and getting back home. She doesn’t have time to screw around and help you solve your problems.”

“Well… I guess we took it a bit too far…”

“Please forgive us,” Ortlinde said with a humble bow. “Agravain’s forces have been growing rapidly while ours have been declining, so we were desperate for their services. We had no intention of causing the child such grief.”

Cuchulainn snarled, “Just shut it already. I’ve heard enough of your excuses to last a lifetime. Get out of my sight or I’ll destroy you without remorse, you pretentious harlots.”

“Ugh…” Hildr kept back the bile churning in her throat from his insults.

He ignored them and kneeled over Connla, imploring, “Come on, stop crying already. The enemy forces are gone.”

She refused to listen. Her wailing only intensified and showed no signs of stopping. She held the Mini-Cu doll tightly, as if it was the only source of comfort she could find in this cold, terrifying world.

“Damn it. This is why I’m no good with kids,” he grumbled. Despite his objections, he held her close and kept telling her to calm down, but to practically no avail. She was just too overwhelmed with rampant emotions assaulting her mind.

Thrud glanced at the sentimental scene, then glared at Sigurd and suggested, “Although our actions merit no excuses, time is also of the essence. The longer we tarry, the more time we give Agravain to complete his ritual and bring Ragnarok upon us too soon. Furthermore, they have Sister Brynhildr on their side, though we cannot fathom the meaning behind her actions. As a result, there are not many options for us to pursue, so we must think carefully and come to a compromise rather than force you to cooperate with us.”

“You’re right,” Sigurd said. “Give us some time to allow the girl to regain her composure. The three of us will discuss how to proceed from here. When we are ready, I will signal you.”

“Very good. We will notify Father then.”


	12. Gathering of Legends

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 12: Gathering of Legends**

After the Valkyries departed to inform Odin of the plan, Sigurd and Cuchulainn found a clearing just outside Vejle where they could rest. Sigurd set up a bonfire and left to find more wood, leaving Cuchulainn to take care of Connla. He rested her upon his lap and bundled her beneath his cape, keeping close to the fire so that both of them could stay warm. She lightly snored a few times, but was otherwise quiet. She also kept Mini-Cu close to her chest – to him, she finally looked like a proper child.

After the trio found this spot, it had taken a good hour for him to use his Runes to make her fall asleep. She had been so wound up with anxiety and fear that his spells initially didn’t work, but once she lost most of her energy, she was easily knocked into a short coma. The ordeal likewise exhausted Cuchulainn, since he wasn’t used to coping with children. Despite his lack of experience, he found Connla’s breakdown harder to endure than any amount of injuries he’d sustain in a fierce battle. Once she settled down, he could finally sit back against a thick tree and relax.

_What a mess,_ he thought bitterly. _No wonder the kid was overwhelmed. At least I made the right call in following her inside the doll._

* * *

_A week earlier…_

In Leonardo Da Vinci’s workshop, the infamous inventor was busy reading some data regarding the THREAD project. Since the initial tests with Connla were so successful, she was beginning to send other Servants on short journeys the same way she did with the Lancer. Thanks to this, some potential incidents that could have exploded into full-on Singularities were quickly resolved so that Ritsuka could save her energy for the seven primary Singularities. As far as the main Grand Order missions were concerned, Chaldea had completed the Sixth and were searching for the Seventh, which was purported to be so far in the past that it would take much longer for SHEBA to find it.

With so much going on in the background, any amount of rest for Da Vinci would be good for her. Compared to figuring out complex algorithms or coming up with new inventions, reading a desk crammed full of Servants’ reports was practically a breeze for her. However, she heard the door to her atelier whir open, and she glanced up to see who was visiting her.

“Oh? What a surprise,” she greeted her guest. “Never thought I’d see you in this neck of the woods after that hullabaloo earlier.”

“Cut the formalities,” Cuchulainn Alter grumbled. “I need to ask you something.”

“What’s up?”

“Is there a way that I can accompany Connla on her missions without her knowing about it?”

“Hm?” Da Vinci raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Look, I might be Cuchulainn, but the kid’s pretty scared of me. She always gets fidgety and defensive whenever I’m around.”

“I’ll bet. She’s not used to you looking like a creature out of a nightmare. She’s much more comfortable around Lancer and Caster since they remind her of the original Cuchulainn.”

“Maybe, but I can’t keep her safe like this. There has to be some way for me to follow her such that I can pop out only when she needs my help. All other times, I can just watch over her like a ghost so she can concentrate on what she has to do.”

“Why not just stay in spirit form?”

“She refuses to take me on missions in the first place.”

“Ahh… So you want to sneak into a job with her and keep an eye on her. Well, it’s kind of tricky, but I’ve got a few ideas circling in my head.”

Da Vinci shuffled around her desk for a moment, then produced a pen and blank piece of paper for her to doodle on. Cuchulainn observed as she sketched what looked to be a super deformed version of himself. He cringed and snarled, “What the hell is this supposed to be?”

“A plushie of you. What else?”

“I can see that. How is this ugly thing going to be of any use to me?”

“Now hold your horses before you go dismissing me. Connla’s been summoned in her prime, and that happens to be when she died at seven years old, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what seven-year old would be complete without a few toys in their possession? All I have to do is make it and give it to her as a gift for all of her hard work. What she won’t know is that I’ll stick a Bloodstone with your Spirit Origin inside. You’ll basically be ‘asleep’ in this form, yet just awake enough to watch what’s happening with her. When the time is needed, you can emerge and defend her from whatever baddies are out to get her.”

Cuchulainn paused. Although the idea was absurd to him, this was Da Vinci he was asking. He knew she would come up with something outrageous, so he had to keep his bewilderment with her wild imagination in check. The plan seemed to be too much for him to swallow at first, but he also saw the merits behind it; it _was_ entirely natural for a child of Connla’s age to carry a stuffed toy around anyway, and he had heard stories of precious treasures behind hidden inside such items without the owner being aware of it. Maybe being turned into a doll was embarrassing for him, but perhaps this was the best thing he could do to overcome this conundrum.

“Judging by that curious expression on your face, you look like you’re on board,” Da Vinci remarked. “I have plenty of fabric, so all I need is a little time. Take a nap or something, and I’ll have it ready for you in a jiffy.”

“Now wait just a-“ Cuchulainn tried to object, but the inventor had already taken off to find the materials. He huffed, then grunted to himself, “Whatever. Better than nothing, I guess.”

* * *

_The present…_

Cuchulainn drifted off into a light sleep while thinking about his conversation with Da Vinci. Soon though, he was roused awake by someone’s footsteps crunching the snow nearby. Sigurd had returned with some more firewood and rejuvenated the fire with it before whispering, “Is she finally asleep?”

“She was more upset than I realized,” Cuchulain grumbled. “If I had known this would happen, I would’ve come out of hiding sooner.”

“Why exactly did you disguise yourself anyway? Why didn’t you go along with Connla and Mordred as you are?”

“The kid’s frightened of me. If I tried to accompany them as myself, Connla would be too nervous around me to concentrate on her mission. This way, I gave her the space she needed to focus while still remaining by her side.”

“So there is a significant rift between you two, even though you are parent and child.”

“She’s just not used to me being like this. She remembers me as the hero of Ulster, not a bloodthirsty Mad King. We’re slowly getting there, but she needs some more time.”

“I see. There must be a long story behind it, but I will not pry for details. We should focus on how we’re going to proceed from here.”

Cuchulainn yawned and muttered, “We should wait until all three of us are rested up. No point in having a long discussion if any of us are unable to pitch in.”

“Well spoken. Then I shall remain on guard for the night. We should expect Thrud and her sisters to meet up with us so we can have a thorough strategy meeting.”

“I’m not exactly keen on dealing with those wenches again, but we’re gonna need their help, aren’t we?”

“Inevitably, yes,” Sigurd nodded, then took out his sword and said before departing, “If you’ll excuse me.”

* * *

The next morning, Cuchulainn woke up to the sight of the bonfire having long since died down, and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon in an array of greys, blues, purples and reds. It wouldn’t be long before full daylight descended upon them. He knew this was no time to be admiring the scenery however; the trio of Servants had to continue their journey to Copenhagen while thinking of a plan to rescue Mordred from a much stronger enemy force. Even though Cuchulainn was a Berserker, meaning he was much stronger than his Lancer version, he had to admit that the upcoming battles were going to be a real challenge for him.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he felt Connla stirring awake on his lap. She yawned and stretched before rubbing her weary eyes and looking up at him. He muttered, “Yo. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Father,” Connla moaned. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll bet you are. You wasted all of your energy crying yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. I know I should’ve been fighting, but…”

“Well, it worked out somehow. Thanks to your little breakdown, the Valkyries managed to give us some breathing room to think about what to do next.”

“Is that right?” she wondered, then held the now-lifeless Mini-Cu close and whimpered, “But what are we going to do? Sir Mordred is in the enemy’s hands, Lady Brynhildr and her Master are trying to kill me for unknown reasons, and we’re stranded from Chaldea without any backup…“

“That’s enough. You’re not going to panic again today.”

“Uh… Mm…”

“Here, calm down and eat this.”

He gave her some beef jerky, and she munched on it for the next while to regain her energy. While eating, she asked him, “Why are you here anyway? I don’t understand how that’s possible.”

“Right. Da Vinci didn’t say anything to you. Well now that you know, guess it’s best I tell you everything.”

Cuchulainn explained what happened between him and the inventor, and how he snuck himself inside Mini-Cu so he could accompany Connla in secret. The young Lancer stared at the doll for a long moment, then murmured, “Oh… So that one time I saw that miniature Gae Bolg destroy that monster…”

“Yep. That was me.”

She appeared pensive. After thinking about what he told her, she uttered, “Y-You went through so much trouble for me. I should have realized how my behavior was affecting you. If I did, you wouldn’t have forced yourself to do something so drastic for me…”

“Geez, stop being sorry for every little damn thing. It’s getting on my nerves.”

“…”

“Besides, it was the perfect opportunity for me to see what you need to work on as a warrior. Thanks to that, I have a good idea of what I need to train you on.”

“Really?”

“Your speed is impeccable, but your spearmanship is still a bit sloppy. You also need to improve your repertoire of Rune spells. I know a couple of tricks that you’ll find useful. Once we get back to Chaldea, I’ll show you.”

“Chaldea…” Connla whispered. “I wonder how everyone’s doing. It’s been about a week since we landed here, hasn’t it? I’ll bet they’re going insane with worry, and desperately using SHEBA to find us.”

“I wouldn’t count on them discovering our location anytime soon. There must be millions of alternate worlds out there, so it’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack for them. Our best bet is to occupy Copenhagen and use the Leyline there to establish the summoning circle. Rescuing that brat of a knight just happens to be an added bonus.”

“Hm… Say, where is Lord Sigurd? I don’t see him anywhere,” she wondered, looking around for him.

“He’s out on patrol,” Cuchulainn scratched the back of his neck. “He should be back soon. Once we’re ready, we can plan our next move.”

They rested for another 15 minutes before the Germanic hero returned, relived to see that his allies were fine. The three of them sat around the dead campfire and began their much-needed meeting.

“So, here’s the situation,” Sigurd said. “According to my Master, all of Zealand has been occupied by Agravain and his forces. Speaking of which, I’ve been told that they are going by the name of Denialists.”

“Denialists?” Connla asked. “Is that referring to what Lady Brynhildr was talking about? About ‘denying’ the future she was going to have with you?”

“Precisely. Their goal is to avert the history that is meant to happen. It seems each of the Servants allying themselves with Agravain have their own personal reasons for wanting to bring Ragnarok upon these lands. That means we’re dealing with Agravain himself, Brynhildr, Vlad the Impaler, and the Caster who has holed himself up in the fortress this entire time. Aside from them, Agravain has summoned a small army of knights who are loyal only to him, and are so powerful that even facing two of them at once would be troublesome for a Servant.”

“Who is the Caster supposed to be?” Cuchulainn asked. “I’m guessing he’s the one responsible for those sea creatures that attacked Nyborg before.”

“Right. Those abominations originate from Prelati’s Spellbook, the grimoire that allows its user to summon Horrors, or aquatic demons from another dimension. Given that, there’s only one Servant who fits the description; Gilles de Rais, the serial killer nobleman who once followed Jeanne D’Arc in her quest to save France.”

“Damn. They’re got a real menagerie of crazies, don’t they?”

“Sir Gilles…” Connla murmured sadly, thinking of the Saber version of Gilles that she met in her very first THREAD mission.

Sigurd continued, “Gilles is summoning his Horrors in order to gather people and sacrifice them to the Holy Grail, supplying it with the mana needed to initiate Ragnarok. That’s why Zealand is all but deserted by the populace, but the Denialists are slowly spreading their influence across all of Denmark. It seems they still don’t have enough sacrifices to completely fill the Grail yet, so this really is our only chance to halt their plans.”

“How did Sir Agravain obtain the Holy Grail?” the child Servant wondered.

“That I’m not sure of. My Master never informed me of that.”

“You Master seems to know a lot about what’s going on. Their knowledge has been a real lifesaver.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate those words,” Sigurd grinned.

“She? Who summoned you anyway?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of Odin, yes? While he has been busy commanding the Valkyries to counter the Denialists, his wife has been working on the side to prevent this calamity as well.”

“Odin’s wife?”

“The goddess Frigg, who is associated with foresight and wisdom. Although confined to the hallowed halls of Fensalir, she was able to foresee what the enemy was plotting and decided to summon me as a countermeasure. She also took into account that you and Mordred would be purposely diverted to this world, although the Denialists only wanted you to show up so that they could kill you, in accordance to their promise with whomever their Master is.”

“Oohhh,” Connla gasped in recognition. “So Goddess Frigg has been doing what she can to help everyone.”

“Yes. She cannot do much herself, so I am the executor of her will. She imparted all of the knowledge she attained to me so that I may fight more effectively, as well as pass that information on to my comrades, as I am doing right now.”

Cuchulainn snorted, “That’s all well and good, but now that we know what we’re up against, what are we going to do? Did our wonderful goddess give you any tips on their weaknesses?”

Sigurd frowned, “I’m afraid not.”

“Typical of the gods. No wonder they disappeared from this world – they’re as useless as cancerous tumors.”

Connla appeared to be in deep thought for some time. Cuchulainn glanced down at her and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Well, I was just thinking of the dream I had with the alternate Fifth Singularity. The ‘me’ of that world was thrust in a very similar situation, with her side not having as many numbers as the enemy. Despite those odds though, they managed to achieve victory.”

“So how did they deal with it?”

“They split their forces into two, with a much larger force stalling the enemy’s army while a smaller strike team slipped in from elsewhere and assassinated the leaders. The other ‘me’ was with the strike team, and she fought both that world’s version of ‘you’ and Queen Medb.”

Sigurd was surprised to hear this, and he asked, “You dreamed of such a thing?”

“Mm,” Connla nodded. “I’m not sure why, but I’ve experienced the lives of other ‘mes’ living in different worlds while I’m fast asleep.”

He was curious to hear this, but he also needed to address the strategy she suggested. He said, “Perhaps such a method is the only feasible one we have available. Since there are four enemy Servants and there are four of us, our numbers are even enough for us to retaliate.”

“But there’s only three of us…”

“They have Mordred, which could prove to be a detriment to them if we manage to rescue her.”

“What about Agravain’s knights?” Cuchulainn asked.

“I’ll see about convincing the Valkyries to send their forces plus all of the warriors they have gathered in Valhalla to act as a vanguard. They would attack from the front, while we sneak inside the fortress elsewhere and confront the Servants. Of course, whether or not we go ahead with this plan depends on what Thrud says,” Sigurd sighed.

“If they refuse to cooperate, I can always remind them how weak they truly are,” the Berserker grinned darkly.

“I wouldn’t look down on them if I were you. You only got lucky because you caught them off guard. If they got serious, they could wipe out an entire country from the face of the Earth.”

“And yet they’ve been struggling against Agravain this whole time. Not exactly an impressive resume, if you ask me.”

Connla said, “That’s only because the Denialists have the Holy Grail, so they’re able to drive back the Valkyries with its power. If we were to take out the Servants using it though, they should have a much better chance of eliminating the knights.”

“You’re right,” Cuchulainn agreed. “I want to know how the fortress is laid out though. There must be a gap in their security that we can use to slip in.”

“We’ll have to ask the Valkyries that,” Sigurd said. “They should have a more detailed outline of how the castle is fortified.”

“Fine. Guess we better get a move on then.”

The trio left the campground behind and headed for Vejle. Along the way, Connla asked her father, “What are we going to do about Sir Mordred?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else? Rescuing her, of course.”

“This may sound cold, but she’s practically at the bottom of our list of priorities. Besides, there isn’t much we can do for her anyway until we get inside Copenhagen, and that alone will be difficult enough. Don’t worry too much about her – she’s being kept alive to be used as bait to lure you and Sigurd. Luckily, they shouldn’t know about me being here yet, so that’s an element of surprise we can use against them.”

“True. I guess I should take this one step at a time.”

“You got it,” Cuchulainn grinned. “You have a bad habit of putting the cart before the horse. Pace yourself and focus on each task as they come up. Eventually, everything will lead to us helping Mordred.”

“Okay.”

Sigurd overheard them and added, “He’s right. Our current objective is to cross the Kattegat and make it through Zealand, which is infested with Gilles’ monsters. Once we reach land, we must be expedient in our movements. There will be no time for resting like last night – it will be a frenzy of fighting and running from here on out.”

“Then if all three of us fight together-“ Connla tried to say, but Cuchulainn suddenly cut her off.

“No. Your job is to rescue Mordred and establish the summoning circle inside Copenhagen. Until we get there, you’re not going to do a lick of fighting. I’ll take your place and destroy anyone who tries to harass you in the meantime.”

“But-“

“No objections. As my kid, you’re going to follow _my_ instructions to the letter, got it?”

“Um… Y-Yes, Father.”

Sigurd smiled a little, charmed by the father-daughter exchange. Although Cuchulainn told him of the rift between them, he believed that things would work out for them soon enough. For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if he and Brynhildr had given birth to a child of their own. He had to admit that a obedient child like Connla was ideal for him – maybe he was projecting his fantasy upon the young Servant and was treating her like she really was his own offspring. Even so, he had to keep his distance; Connla’s actual father was present, so it was best for Sigurd to regard Connla as a reliable ally.

_Brynhildr… I’ll make you see just how much your desire to deny my love is a mistake._

* * *

Unlike with Frederica, which was still bustling with some life, Vejle had almost been entirely deserted. Ever since the threat of Gilles’ Horrors started spreading to mainland Denmark, many civilians had grown too fearful of living on the eastern coast and opted to abandon the towns dotting the shore. Frederica was simply one of the last port towns still populated, but even then, people were already leaving in droves. To Connla, seeing Vejle completely devoid of any humans other than herself, Sigurd and Cuchulainn was bewildering – it reminded her of how desolate Nyborg was, and of her promise to Ahren to make things right in this world.

_I’ve rallied more allies for the cause like I said I would, but I wonder if it’s going to be enough…_

As Connla thought about Ahren, the trio reached the harbor. Waiting for them there were Thrud, Hildr and Ortlinde, whom Odin had appointed as his representatives for the unaffiliated Servants.

“So then, have you come up with a strategy?” Thurd asked plainly.

“We have something in the works, but we wanted your input as well,” Sigurd replied, then explained what the three Servants had discussed earlier.

Hildr raised her eyebrows and said, “So it’s basically a pincer attack. But wouldn’t it be better for us Valkyries to handle the assassination? We are already familiar with how Agravain’s fortress is laid out.”

“That may be exactly what they’re expecting. They want to draw the Son of Cuchulainn and myself out into the open and finish us off with their numbers, while they anticipate your arrival and wipe you out. The thing is, they don’t know anything about Cuchulainn himself being present in this world, and we want to take advantage of that to destroy the Servants before they can effectively retaliate against him. If we three were part of the main vanguard, that opportunity will be wasted.”

“I see. So it all hinges on what the Child of Light can do for us.”

“Got that right,” Cuchulainn grumbled. “I’ll give them no time to think of a way to counter my surprise attack. I could probably kill one or two of those Servants on my own.”

“Your enthusiasm is encouraging, if nothing else,” Ortlinde murmured bitterly.

“So then,” Sigurd said to Thrud, “are you in agreement with this plan? It will involve you Valkyries and all of Valhalla’s warriors being at the front lines to serve as a diversion. I do not mean to steal any sort of thunder away from you, but…”

“That is irrelevant,” the blonde-haired warrior maiden retorted. “Father has heard this conversation though us, and has agreed to the terms. He wants you to know that from our previous reconnaissance, we’ve discovered that the southeastern area of Copenhagen has been poorly fortified. Therefore, we will be concentrating our attack on the northwest.”

“So we infiltrate from the southeast. Got it.”

“You’d best not fail on your part. Father especially wants you to kill Sister Brynhildr as punishment for you unsealing her from the Pale Rune of Punishment that he imposed upon her.”

“Punishment, huh? As if having to fight Brynhildr isn’t hard enough for me…”

Connla frowned when she saw Sigurd’s dejected expression. She opted to change the subject as quickly as possible, so she stepped onto the pier where a small sailing ship awaited them and said, “I guess the trek will take us a few days, won’t it?”

Ortlinde replied, “That will take too long. By the time you three arrive on Zealand, the Holy Grail might be filled to capacity with mana, and it will truly be too late to avert Ragnarok.”

“But, how are we supposed to get across any faster?”

“Since this is an emergency situation, Father has arranged some transportation for your perusal,” the black-haired lady said, then put her fingers to her lips and whistled. A few seconds later, a dazzling flicker of light illuminated the air around them. From within the aura emerged a massive grey horse with eight distinct legs. Although Cuchulainn remained as impassive as always, Sigurd and Connla stared at the monstrous equine in awe.

“This is…!” Sigurd gasped. “The greatest of all horses, and the personal steed of Odin – Sleipnir!”

“Incredible!” Connla yelped. “Lord Odin’s allowing us to ride _Sleipnir_!? This can’t be right! I don’t think any human is worthy of riding him!”

Sleipnir neighed in response, and Ortlinde chuckled, “He’s saying you don’t need to put him on such a high pedestal. He too wants to do his part to stop Ragnarok from happening.”

“Oh… I-If you say so…”

The horse was so large that he needed to kneel to let Sigurd get on his back. The warrior tested Sleipnir’s gait, then exclaimed, “Amazing! This steed is majestic, yet riding him is no different than with Grani!”

“It should be – Sleipnir is Grani’s ancestor, after all,” Hildr said. “Don’t get too comfortable with him though. Father has only allowed you to mount him until you reach the shores of Zealand. Proceeding any further with the legendary horse of a god will alert the Denialists and ruin the plan. We will bring Grani to the destination point once you arrive so you can travel on land expediently without being discovered.”

“Understood.”

“Can he really fit three people though?” Connla wondered, staring into the divine animal’s eyes.

“That could be a problem,” Ortlinde murmured.

“Hmph. Not to worry. I’ll just do this,” Cuchulainn smirked, then reduced himself to his spirit form and returned inside Mini-Cu. His voice echoed, _“I’ll stay in here until the time is right.”_

“Excellent,” Sigurd said, and he helped Connla get onto Sleipnir’s back. “Thrud, I will leave the disposal of the main force to you and your sisters. We will move in as soon as possible and eliminate the Servants elsewhere.”

“Acknowledged. If you are unable to convince Sister Brynhildr of the error of her ways, then I ask of you to bring an end to her, if not for us, then for the future of this world.”

“Very well. Let us be off then.”

Sleipnir reared on his four hind legs, then trotted clear over the ocean and hurried along an invisible platform that was constantly being generated by Runes embedded in his eight hooves. His speed easily reached 100 km/h, forcing Sigurd to put his full armored mask on to protect his eyes. Connla had to make do by shielding her face with her arms and keeping her eyes closed. She wanted to enjoy the view of the Kattegat from so far above, but her eyes kept getting dried out from the intense winds hitting her entire body. She could see Funen Island passing by to their south, which only made her think of Ahren even more.

_Sir Mordred… Ahren… We’re going to finish this real soon. Just hang in there and wait for us._

* * *

In Copenhagen Fort’s underground dungeons and torture chambers, a lone black-haired figure stood within a pentagram etched on the blood-soaked stone floor. Although the candlelight surrounding him barely illuminated the abyssal darkness that engulfed him, it was more than enough to reveal the corpses and entrails of dozens of people that were repurposed as interior décor. Such horrors were impossible to describe with mere words, so for simplicity’s sake, it was best to leave it under the term ‘Hell on Earth’.

In the center of this grotesque carnage, the man known as Gilles de Rais raised his grimoire, Prelati’s Spellbook, and began chanting blasphemous words that could not be deciphered into the English language. Like Agravain, he too never left the safety of the castle, preferring to let his summoned minions do his bidding of kidnapping people from all across Zealand. He was more than happy to take care of disintegrating his victims’ bodies into pure mana and feeding it to the Holy Grail, though he had requested that he take some children for his own personal amusement. Although Agravain wanted everyone to be sublimated equally, he opted to let Gilles have his way a little bit if only to keep his wild compulsions under control.

Unlike with his summoning in the Fourth Holy Grail War of another world, Gilles retained aspects of both his Saber and Caster class outfits. He kept the silver armor and tattered clothing beneath, but it was all draped under a thick striped mantle reminiscent of his tentacle-like Caster robes. His hair wasn’t entirely slicked back, but rather had messy, disheveled bangs to symbolize his mad nature. His eyes were always wide open, but they weren’t quite bulging out of the sockets just yet. In other words, this Gilles was in the process of losing his honor as a knight and becoming the infamously insane alchemist.

Gilles finished casting his spell, and the pentagram beneath him shone a murky indigo color. He grinned with excitement, eager to see what sort of devastation his new summoning would inflict upon the world.

* * *

Sleipnir continued galloping across the skies of Denmark for the next hour, his stride unrelenting and fast-paced. However, he suddenly let out a surprised yelp as he looked down at the ocean below him. Sigurd and Connla took a glance as well and discovered a large field of bubbles frothing to the surface. They weren’t water bubbles though – it appeared to be some kind of mucous-like substance boiling over from a portal that had opened up beneath the waves, corroding the sea no differently than when a massive oil spill occurred.

“Looks like we have company,” Sigurd scoffed.

“What is that?” Connla wondered.

Soon, a large assortment of sea green tentacles writhed out of the cavernous gap. Neither Servant was sure if they belonged to multiple monsters or one singular Lovecraftian abomination that was too large to fit through the hole, but it was clear that the appendages harbored hostile intentions toward them. Without any warning, the tentacles shot forth for Sleipnir. The divine horse immediately altered his course and rapidly twisted and turned through the slimy arms.

“Uwah!?” Connla shrieked, alarmed by the sudden change in movement threatening to throw her off.

Sigurd wrapped his arm around her small waist for extra security, then shouted, “Hold on tight!”

Neither of them could do much, being forced to endure a vicious roller coaster ride that had no discernible pattern or rhythm. Sleipnir was already hard-pressed with avoiding the flailing tentacles, plus he was incapable of combat himself.

_“Yaaaah! W-What are we going to do!?”_ Connla gasped frantically.

“Damn it!” Sigurd clenched his teeth. “If only I could use Gram…!”

That was when Mini-Cu shone red again, and Cuchulainn Alter’s Spirit Origin detached itself from the doll. He materialized while falling over the gigantic Horror, his smirk broad and fanged. After sitting inside Mini-Cu for so long, he was itching to get some action in. He conjured Gae Bolg into his hand, then readied it into a throwing position while summoning its dreaded powers. His skin and muscles flared with incredible agony, but he ignored the pain and powered up the Noble Phantasm from an Anti-Unit class attack to Anti-Army, which would be capable of shredding through thousands at the cost of expending more mana.

**_“Gae Bolg!”_ **

He hurled the thorny spear straight above the massive creature, transforming the weapon into a scarlet comet of death. Gae Bolg itself would take care of finding its ‘heart’ and destroying it with absolute certainty. After a few intense moments of silence, an ear-piercing screech reverberated all around them that sounded like no creature or animal from this world. The gigantic squid-like abomination flailed its tentacles everywhere, and Sleipnir had to weave around the appendages even more to avoid being slapped out of the sky. Cuchulainn grabbed Gae Bolg as it flew back into his hand. He was confident that his Noble Phantasm took care of the job, so he reverted back to spirit form and retreated into Mini-Cu once more.

With the otherworldly behemoth’s core destroyed, it vanished in a flurry of black ink that dissipated into nothing. Connla had witnessed the violent spectacle and exclaimed, “Are you all right, Father!?”

_“Hah. That was nothing,”_ Cuchulainn’s voice echoed, although in truth, he sounded quite exhausted.

“Are you sure? You look like you were being torn apart from the inside.”

_“Stop worrying about me and keep moving.”_

Now out of danger, Sleipnir continued on his course for Zealand, which could finally be seen in the approaching distance. He descended upon the fjord where the city of Kalundborg would be established in the future, and his hooves soon hit ground once more.

“Phew…” Connla sighed in relief as she and Sigurd dismounted Sleipnir. “There better not be any more creatures like that.”

“Summoning a demon of such magnitude should have expended Caster of most of his energy. So long as we remain vigilant in our advance, he will not be given another chance. The existing infestation of Horrors on this island might be another problem though,” Sigurd said, then investigated the immediate area. He found his own horse Grani at a nearby stream drinking some water – the Valkyries had transported him here separately, as they promised. Grani noticed his owner and trotted up to Sigurd eagerly, glad to see him once again.

Connla faced Sleipnir and said, “Thank you for your assistance. It was an honor to have ridden you.”

The divine stallion snorted in response, then turned away and galloped back into the sky, vanishing in a flash of intense light. She got on Grani with Sigurd, then he took the reins and declared, “From here on out, it will be a nonstop dash to the enemy stronghold. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Here we go!”

Grani whinnied, eager to have his owner back, and he raced through the undisturbed snow straight eastward to Copenhagen.


	13. Established Rivalries

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 13: Established Rivalries**

The ominous halls of Copenhagen’s dungeons fell into absolute silence. The indigo pentagram that shone beneath Gilles’ feet vanished, returning the area to darkness. He stood there in a perplexed daze, unsure of why his strongest creature was dead.

“I do not understand…” he moaned in confusion. “What sort of power could eliminate my mightiest creation with but one mere stroke…?”

He heard a pair of footsteps fervently striding toward him, and he saw Agravain approaching from the darkness of the dimly-lit chamber. His eye twitched as he scowled, “What happened?”

“My finest summoning, the absolute worst that Hell itself has to offer, has been vanquished.”

“Pah. You put too much stock into those feeble monstrosities. I was right to not have too many expectations from you, seeing as how you’re such a pathetic Servant.”

“Oh hoh? Does this mean you will be the one to mete the judgment upon me that God failed to do so? _Oooooh, how delightful!_ By all means, show me the depths of your anger, Sir Agravain! I would very much love to see how you’ll make me repent! If not, then spare me such hollow threats – I lend my ears to no one but my beloved Jeanne!”

“Tch,” the knight growled, growing frustrated with the dually masochistic and sadistic madman. He would have gladly shoved his sword through the man’s wicked heart, but he still needed the powers of Prelati’s Spellbook to help him with gathering mana.

“She’s coming…” Gilles moaned incoherently. “Yes, she is coming… Soon, our fated reunion will be upon us! My blood boils with excitement! I cannot wait to see the look of despair upon her face when she sees me once again!”

“’She’? Are you talking about Jeanne?”

“ _COOOOOnnla!_ ” the Caster bellowed, stretching the first syllable so that it resembled the word ‘cool’. “How fortunate for me! I got to witness a hero just like Jeanne! She left me with words that I have pondered over for years afterward! I felt that I was not deserving of such kindness, yet I wanted to hear more of it! I searched, searched, and searched for so long, kidnapping as many children as I could to see if she would be among them! Yet she vanished into the ether, never to be seen again… _UNTIL NOW!_ ”

“Y-You know the Son of Cuchulainn?” This was the first time Agravain heard of such a thing.

“I met her once, yes… Just once… But that once was enough to change me… The death of my Jeanne, and the disappearance of the benevolent little knight… _I wanted to see them again!_ I want to pull them from the light that forsakes and drag them into the abyss where I dwell, never to let them leave me behind again! I’ll drown them in the love that God does not give to anyone!”

“So you’re not really interested in changing your history, are you?”

“No, my good sir knight. I am a foul existence that should be punished. I am not fool enough to believe that I can change that. All I seek is for a saint who will accomplish what God could not – to deliver me from my sins and lead me to everlasting light! Jeanne was taken away from me, but I was able to meet another who shone like her! If it is not Jeanne that I shall face, then I will make due with a substitute!”

“I see… Well then, you should be pleased to know that Sigurd and Connla are fast approaching us. It seems they realize what our objective is and are moving in to stop it. Summon all of your Horrors to capture them before they can make it this far.”

“Of course, of course. Sigurd will make a most excellent offering for the Grail. As for Connla… Mwuh heh heh…”

Agravain sighed and turned on his heel to walk away from Gilles as he descended into a bout of insane laughter.

* * *

Sigurd and Connla continued racing east along Zealand on Grani’s back. The horse was unwavering in his advance toward the destination. Initially there weren’t as many sea creatures for them to worry about, but once they reached the area where Roskilde would be established, the enemy’s numbers started to swell exponentially. They first started off as individual attacks, soon growing in entire hordes that Grani had to outrun. Luckily, the Horrors weren’t quite as fast on land as they were in sea, but the Servants had to be careful not to expose the stallion to any impending crowds of monsters. If an infestation attempted to run them over, Sigurd would order Grani to take a wide berth around to avoid them.

Not only was the sheer number of monsters a problem, but once they advanced upon the future Rødovre municipality, they now had to worry about the creatures’ sizes. Most of the first waves consisted of smaller minions that could be felled with simple spells and strikes had Sigurd and Connla taken the time to fight, but the incoming tentacles appeared to belong to more of the gigantic creatures similar to the one they dealt with over the Kattegat. Entire fields and hillsides were blanketed in layers of writhing appendages, concealing any of the natural beauty that Denmark’s landscapes had to offer.

“What a disaster,” Sigurd grumbled dejectedly. “To think that my home territory has been reduced to a den of abominations…”

Connla wanted to say something to console him, but wasn’t able to do so due to an approaching onslaught of large slimy arms. Without needing to be told, Grani shot over the tentacles and expertly leapt off a cliff side to reach the upper plateau. Connla grabbed his mane and held on tightly to avoid falling off as they hovered in mid-air for a few intense seconds. She looked back to see the appendages barreling straight for them from below, so she stretched a hand out and conjured some Ansuz Runes. A volley of fireballs pelted the flailing creatures and forced them to back off, allowing Grani to land safely and continue galloping.

Sigurd cursed, “Damn it! Have they realized that we’ve split our forces!?”

Connla murmured, “This infestation is much worse than I thought. Can we really make it through?”

Cuchulainn’s voice echoed, _“Looks like I better secure our route.”_

“What do you mean?”

Mini-Cu shone red once more, and the Berserker emerged again. He somersaulted a few times before skidding upon the snow and glaring at the oncoming tentacles with a malicious grin. He spun Gae Bolg in his hand and charged into the fray, slicing and cleaving through the squishy arms with virtually no effort.

“Father!?” Connla shouted while staring back at his vanishing figure.

“Go on ahead! I’ll catch up later!” Cuchulainn exclaimed while continuing his relentless assault.

Sigurd nodded and commanded Grani to continue running towards Copenhagen. Connla wanted to get off and help her father, but Sigurd held her shoulder to prevent her from doing anything rash, and he said, “Let’s leave this to him. Our job is to confront the Servants.”

“O-Okay…”

* * *

In the northern Zealand territories were the Lyngby district would be founded over 1000 years from now, Thrud and her Valkyrie sisters assembled all of the warriors they had gathered from Valhalla and arranged them into a solid line formation. There weren’t just Vikings present; there were also numerous British knights, French fencers, German soldiers, Roman gladiators, Spanish sailors, Celtic druids, and many, _many_ more armed troops from varying backgrounds. There were even some wild animals in the mix like lions, wolves, tigers, and bears. The only thing they had in common was that the Valkyries chose them to be part of Valhalla after they had demonstrated their valor on the battlefield. In addition, there were hundreds of Valkyries that hovered above the assembled troops. Overall, the entire brigade consisted of around 25,000 soldiers.

Ortlinde approached Thrud and said, “The western flank is ready.”

Hildr added, “My side’s all set, Sister.”

“Good,” Thrud said. “Without further ado, we shall march immediately. Our duty is to keep the enemy’s knights and monsters preoccupied. We will have to trust Sigurd and his party to take care of their end in an expedient manner.”

The blonde-haired lady raised her spear up high to signal her other sisters. With that, the entire infantry let out an enthusiastic battle cry and began moving south for Copenhagen Fort.

* * *

Agravain stood upon Copenhagen’s highest battlement and observed the Valhallan forces that marched toward him in the distance. To him, they resembled a congregation of ants that needed to be stamped out. The fact that they were making good progress meant that the Horrors guarding northern Zealand were being wiped out easily.

He heard Brynhildr’s heeled boots click on the ground behind him as she said, “My sisters will soon be here.”

“Looks like they’ve brought the cream of the crop in terms of warriors,” Agravain said.

“Of course they would. We Valkyries have a discerning eye for quality in choosing Valhalla’s heroes.”

Soon, Vlad also stepped upon the battlement. He folded his arms and gazed upon the advancing battalion as if it was a natural part of the wintry scenery, then murmured, “Ah, how nostalgic. This reminds me of Mehmed’s night attack on Târgoviște.”

“That’s where you impaled around 23,000 Turks to frighten that greedy Sultan out of your territory, isn’t it?” Agravain wondered.

“It was exactly 23,844 of those foolish invaders I turned into worthy examples.”

“Hm… It looks like we’re dealing with similar numbers here. Do you intend to do the same with these insurgents?”

“As much as I would like to, there appears to be a problem that Brynhildr and I have discovered from our investigation.”

“Yes,” the warrior maiden murmured. “Indeed, my sisters are leading the charge. However, Vlad and I did not spot Sigurd or Connla among their ranks.”

With the foresight of ten tacticians, Agravain immediately realized what this meant and snarled, “Those two are going to strike us from elsewhere while we’re busy with the Valhallans. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Exactly,” Vlad nodded. “Impaling thousands may deter regular humans, but these are Servants we’re dealing with. It would be best if Brynhildr and I met those two ourselves while you summon as many knights as you can to stall Odin’s forces. Gilles could try to summon more of his monsters for support, but he appears to have descended into such madness that he is impossible to reason with any further.”

“Leave that lout be. His reliability has long since been expended. If needed, I will kill him myself and feed his mana to the Grail.”

“But, where do you think Sigurd will appear?” Brynhildr asked sullenly. She anticipated the impending battle with her lover, though she wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.

“Hmm,” Agravain mumbled and glared at the approaching army. “I found it rather curious that they are so concentrated on our northern borders. Perhaps they’re trying to distract us from the south so that those Servants have the opportunity to ambush us when we least expect it.”

“I see… Yes, that is something he would think of. Very well, I shall challenge him myself,” she whispered, then leapt gracefully off the battlement and summoned her horse. She landed on its back elegantly, then rode into the distant forest.

Vlad turned to leave and said, “I will deal with the disposal of the child.”

“No sparing her life this time. Her death is our Master’s one and only wish,” Agravain reminded him.

“Yes, I know. There shall be no mercy from me.”

* * *

Grani galloped into Copenhagen’s surrounding territories, banking south so that Sigurd and Connla would not be spotted by the enemies prematurely. Connla thought she heard something unusual though and put a hand to her ear. It sounded like the footsteps of hundreds of soldiers marching in unison. After a moment of careful listening, she asked, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes. It is the Valhallan army advancing from the north,” Sigurd said. “The time of reckoning is almost upon us. I hope you are ready.”

“Of course I am. I’ll do everything I can to save Sir Mordred and make sure the Denialists don’t have their way.”

“Well spoken. It is best that you steel yourself now – I anticipate that we will be attacked shortly.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Though it is faint, I hear another pair of hooves trotting toward us.”

Connla swallowed, then murmured, “Rider…”

Sigurd narrowed his eyes, knowing that he was going to be Brynhildr’s primary target. He made Grani stop, then told Connla, “You dismount here and get to Copenhagen by foot. A person of your lithe stature and quick reflexes should be able to infiltrate the fortress with ease. With any luck, your father should return to assist you as well.”

“What about you?”

“I shall hold Brynhildr off here. She will be one less Servant for you to worry about.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she implored, then got off the steed and used a Ken Rune to help boost her running speed. Sigurd watched her vanish into the white scenery for a minute, making sure she wasn’t attacked before turning his attention to where he believed Brynhildr was coming from. He made no motion to search for her though; he believed it was wisest to wait for her attack and counter it appropriately. He remained perfectly still, allowing no other sounds than his muted breathing and the blowing winter winds to reach his ears.

After several tense minutes of waiting, Sigurd heard the distinct sound of roaring flames coming from above. He didn’t even bother looking up and told Grani to leap away. A few seconds later, azure flames engulfed the snow where he previously was and melted it into water that soaked the grass beneath. The sweltering heat contended with the frigid air for a short while, but was easily conquered and vanished as thick smoke. From within the smoke emerged the beautiful yet tragic warrior maiden Brynhildr, riding her ivory white horse and wielding her hammer-like spear.

“Brynhildr…” Sigurd whispered. Although reluctant to do so, he slowly reached to grab his broadsword; Gram, a former holy sword that had been re-forged into a demonic blade capable of felling dragons. He withdrew the shining blue blade and held it before him, glaring at his lover with woeful determination.

* * *

At the same time, Connla’s small legs rapidly carried her through the last stretch toward Copenhagen. Since she conserved her energy this entire time, as Cuchulainn told her to do so, she was ready to give everything she had for this decisive battle. She really didn’t want to leave Sigurd behind to confront his beloved fiancée by himself, but they both knew that they had a mission to fulfill. She had faith that a great Saber like him would be able to handle himself, so she instead focused on her own primary objective.

_I’m coming to get you, Sir Mordred! Just be patient a little longer!_

While running as fast as she could, that was when Connla thought she had caught a glimpse of something moving about through the trees. The figure kept up their pace to match hers, so they wound up racing each other in parallel formation. The young Lancer clenched her teeth anxiously.

_This is bad. If Lady Brynhildr is busy fighting Lord Sigurd, while Sir Agravain and Sir Gilles are inside the fortress, then that means…_

Her suspicions were confirmed when Vlad emerged from behind a large oak tree and summoned his spear Kazliki Bey into his hand. He thrust the blade forth at the incoming Connla’s head, hoping that her momentum would cause her to impale herself. Without thinking, she slipped her right foot forth and slid clean under the attack, simultaneously kicking his ankle to make him stumble. She swirled across the snow with acrobatic finesse to lunge back at Vlad while he was off-balance, then performed a flying leap and swung her leaf-bladed spear at his face, cleaving off a good portion of skin.

“Kh! Not bad,” the violent-looking Lancer complimented his young opponent. He licked his lips clean of blood, then declared, “But you won’t get a second chance! It is time I feasted upon your entrails and commit your soul to Heaven!”

Connla grunted and jumped backwards multiple times to avoid Vlad’s repeated spear swipes at her chest. She bounced off the trees and cartwheeled about fervently – her innate agility plus Protection From Arrows made it easy for her to escape his wrath unscathed, yet she knew she couldn’t fool around like this forever.

“What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to attack me?” Vlad taunted her. “You’d best hurry and defeat me if you can, or else your friend will suffer a much worse fate than she already has until now.”

“…”

“I know you can’t run away from me either – your geas prevents you from doing so. As long as I continue with my assault, you have no choice but to meet me equally in battle. Or is it that you’re stalling me for some reason?”

Connla grit her teeth. She already had a bad feeling that the Denialists’ Master informed them of everything regarding her, including her strengths as a warrior and the many weaknesses she possessed. It utterly baffled her as to who would know so much about her and harbored such a grudge that they wanted her dead. Alas, she couldn’t worry about that now. Vlad jumped high above the bewildered girl and pointed his spear down with the intent of cracking her head open. She performed an impressive backflip  and hurled several small fireballs at him. He twirled his polearm about to block each one, which gave her time to rush in and swipe at his midsection, cutting through a couple of his ribs.

“Ungh!” Vlad grunted, not expecting to be caught like this. Growing furious with Connla’s determination, he turned around and swung Kazliki Bey at her back while it was exposed. She just barely twisted her torso aside, yet couldn’t save her shoulder from being cleaved into. The white shawl covering her shoulders was stained bright red with blood, and she awkwardly tumbled back to regain her footing. Both Lancers glared at each other and gasped heavily.

_We’re about equal in strength, but I can’t waste my energy fighting Lord Vlad,_ Connla thought desperately. _Since I can’t disengage from this fight, I either kill him with one concentrated strike, or wait for Father to provide back-up._

Since Vlad most certainly wouldn’t give her any more openings for attack, she believed that the second option would be better for her. However, that meant having to stall for time until Cuchulainn arrived, and she wasn’t sure how long that would take. If there was one thing she understood about Vlad though, it was his penchant for talking, so she took advantage of that by saying, “It was never mentioned last time, but you’re following your Master’s command of killing me, aren’t you?”

“I fail to see why you should ask such a question when the answer is obvious.”

“Maybe, but… If you don’t know who your Master is, could you at least tell me what their motive is for wanting me dead?”

“I was not divulged of such information. As a Servant, my sworn duty is to obey whatever instruction they bestow upon me. At the same time though, I shall not deny your skepticism concerning the root of this conspiracy. I too find myself wondering what an Innocent Hero like you would have done to earn such ire.”

“Then you have no reason to fight me. As a Servant, shouldn’t it also be your duty to understand your Master?”

“Perhaps for most Servants, but I am not like them. Though my Master may be flawed, I shall never betray them the way my own people did to me. Even if they are doomed to follow a path of ruin, I shall accompany them the entire way. Violently purging our enemies who lie in wait on that path is the only justice I know of.”

“Justice through violence…” Connla whispered. There was no way she could fathom how some people found their integrity by falling prey to their carnal instincts and killing any opposition who challenged them.

Vlad recognized the apprehensive look etched on her face, and said, “There’s no need for you to understand. All you need to do is die for my Master’s sake. I don’t expect you to just stand there and allow my blade to pierce your heart though. Fight as if your life depends on it, for it truly does.”

“It’s not just my life that depends on my survival,” Connla declared, thinking of Mordred and Ahren again. She then added, “Nay, everyone in this world is counting on me to overcome this incident and restore peace to the lands.”

“Peace, hm? I too wish for the same thing, yet inevitably, it is a different world order you desire from the one we Denialists seek.”

“So it would seem. If Lady Brynhildr joined all of you to change her past, does that mean you want to use Ragnarok to do the same thing for yourself?”

“Hoh. I suppose that would be a most logical conclusion,” Vlad said with a bitter smile. “Let’s see now… I suppose it would be difficult for one of such young mind to understand. After all, you have to be familiar with the concept of Innocent Monsters before you can come to grasp my motivations.”

“Innocent Monsters?”

She had heard of the term before – a gift given to Heroic Spirits whose true histories were eschewed and distorted through years of rumors and gossip. In other words, these Servants were the physical manifestation of lies spread by those who either did not or refused to understand the original person, rather than the original person as they were in life. Hans Christian Andersen mentioned it to her before that his skin, although hidden beneath traditional boys’ clothing, was covered in mermaid fins, match burns and frostbite, and that he always found it difficult to speak due to intense pain slicing about in his throat. Obviously these were not afflictions he suffered with during life, but were the result of people confusing him as some sordid, otherworldly fairy tale writer rather than a human being like everyone else. Although not an Innocent Monster herself, Connla could relate to Hans’ embarrassment since she always kept the hundreds of scars on her body covered up.

In Vlad’s case, she easily understood what this meant. The tale of Vlad the Impaler was the basis for Bram Stoker’s interpretation of him as the blood-sucking vampire Dracula. Vlad was by no means a bloodsucker himself in life, but Stoker’s exaggerations weren’t entirely his own fault; Vlad really did massacre thousands of people to protect his Christian territory from the Islamic Ottoman Empire, even going as far as slaughtering his own people in order to enforce his oppressive policies. He especially hated the Romanian nobles and politicians for flagrantly undermining and corrupting his kingdom (whether those accusations were self-perceived or actually true was anyone’s guess). It really was no wonder that Vlad didn’t have any sympathizers for his cause, and he would be assassinated by his own subordinates out of fear.

“Are you saying you don’t want people to see you through the lens that Bram Stoker placed upon your legend?” Connla murmured.

Vlad was taken aback by how accurate the girl’s inquiry was. He narrowed his beady red eyes and muttered, “Dracula… That was supposed to be my epithet, proudly inherited from my father Vlad II, a member of the Order of the Dragon. As he was called _Dracul_ , I took upon the name _Dracula_ to symbolize my desire to carry on his will of protecting Wallachia’s Christian values from the Ottoman Empire. Would you not have done the same thing had you succeeded your own father? Would you not have taken on the mantle of _Cuchulainn_ yourself?”

“Well… That, I don’t really know…”

“Hm. Well, no matter. The point is that the nobility of my title has been lost and replaced with the whimsical misinterpretations of a lunatic writer. Due to that bastard’s wordmongering, _Dracula_ has become synonymous with pontificating demons who survive on others’ lifeblood like leeches. They even have the gall to dress like the nobility I so detested. Ironic… Oh, how ironic it is. It almost makes me want to laugh at it all.”

Connla tensed up and held her spear close. She could feel the agony behind Vlad’s words, and it almost made her feel a little sorry for him.

Vlad swung Kazliki Bey in an arc and declared, “That’s why it is best that I shed this false image and be reborn as a new hero who shall defend my beloved Romania, then die and be remembered as the nation’s greatest king. I can finally be remembered for the man that I am, rather than the fiction that others have weaved on my behalf. _That_ is what I seek on the end of this destructive road.”

“But,” the child Lancer trailed, “even if Ragnarok winds up changing everything, what makes you think that this new Romania will be one that you _want_ to protect? It could become some rogue state where anarchy is the way of life.”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier?” he retorted without hesitation. “In life, my Master was Romania herself. However flawed she may become centuries from now, I shall always raise my spear for her sake.”

“So you’re that determined to see it through…”

Connla felt she had stalled Vlad long enough. She couldn’t stomach his twisted reasoning any further and got into her combat stance. He responded in turn, and they glared at each other intensely, waiting for one to make the first move. The world around them was silent for a good minute. It wasn’t until some heavy piled-up snow fell off a pine tree and disrupted the tense quiet, prompting the two warriors to charge at each other.

They engaged in a fierce duel, with Connla utilizing clever twirls and motions to dodge Vlad’s vicious strikes. Any time she found a chance to slay him, he would see through her improvised strategies and react immediately to block her. The same could be said for her parrying his most lethal strikes. Both of their bodies were covered in bleeding cuts and lacerations, yet they kept battling in this fervent dance of death with no regard to their injuries. They really were Lancers on equal footing with each other – only a terrible mistake on either of their parts would result in someone’s demise. Neither of them wanted it to come to that, yet they knew it would be inevitable the longer this dual was drawn out. The frenzy only lasted a minute, though it felt way longer to the two Servants.

Soon, it would be Connla that slipped up by losing traction on a particularly frozen section of snow. Vlad grinned and delivered a mighty kick to her chest, causing her to roll along the white ground. She immediately got to her knees and stared in shock at Kazliki Bey as it was pointed just mere feet away from her face.

Suddenly, faster than the blink of an eye, a terrifying black-hooded figure leapt from directly behind the fallen Connla and descended upon Vlad like a monstrous Grim Reaper. His sharp teeth widened into a terrifying grin and his red eyes shone evilly to display his murderous intent. The number of spikes emanating from his body and long centipede-like tail rivaled the metallic thorns on Vlad’s armor.

“Guh!?” the Wallachian prince gasped, instantly reeling to block the newcomer’s jagged red polearm with his own spear. The force of the blow caused him to skid backwards, leaving a parallel trail of disturbed snow in his wake. He clenched his teeth and stared at his new opponent, shouting in total shock, “What blasphemy is this!?”

“Yo,” was Cuchulainn Alter’s simple greeting. “Looks like you were having a little fun with my kid. Mind if I take her place as your enemy?”

“’M-My kid’? _Ridiculous!_ She is the Son of Cuchulainn! You can’t possibly be Ireland’s Child of Light – not with such a grotesque visage!”

“Spare me. I’ve heard that accusation more than enough times. I’m Cuchulainn, and you’re going to die by my hand. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You bastard!” Vlad snarled. “Where the hell did you come from!?”

“I didn’t ‘come’ from anywhere. I’ve been with Connla this entire time.”

“What!? How!?”

“See that doll of hers?” Cuchulainn regarded the Mini-Cu plushie on the young girl’s back. “You could say I hitched a ride in there without her knowledge.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I am. But that’s not what you should be worried about, is it? I saw what you did in your earlier fight with her and Mordred. You had some funny ideas about killing her simply because your Master told you to, is that right? For such a proud and mighty prince of Romania, you sure can be easily swayed by the dumbest shit out there, you fucking lemming.”

“Shut up! A brute like you would never understand the pain of being betrayed by your own people, then being mocked as some kind of monster by future generations!” Vlad roared.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thing is, I’m dealing with a different kind of pain; the kind where my one and only daughter is being terrorized by a bunch of idiots who think they have what it takes to change history itself. As her father, I will destroy anyone who even _thinks_ about laying a finger on her. Your personal motivations mean nothing to me.”

“Kh…” Vlad had to admit that Cuchulainn’s rage was both palpable and warranted. He would have done the same if his own flesh and blood was being threatened by someone. All this while, Connla stood behind Cuchulainn and stared up at him with surprise in her eyes. This was the first time she really got to hear how he felt about her; it made her feel scared, awkward, and perhaps a bit honored.

“You better prepare yourself,” the Celtic Berserker warned, pointing Gae Bolg at the Romanian Lancer, “because now _you’re_ going to be the one who shall be violently impaled and displayed to the enemy.”

Vlad bared his teeth and seethed, “We’ll see about that!”

Now it was Cuchulainn’s turn to rush in and fight Vlad in a wild rampage of blood and spears. This time, Vlad needed to be the agile one due to Cuchulainn’s brute strength overwhelming his. While Vlad had been a normal human in life, Cuchulainn was a demigod, meaning he had at least half the strength of an actual god. Adding his Berserker class as a factor made him inhumanly powerful – Vlad really felt like he was fighting an actual monster out of mythology rather than a fellow man. It didn’t take much effort for Cuchulainn to swat Vlad’s strikes aside before going in for the kill numerous times, only barely missing due to the Romanian’s reaction times.

All this while, Connla watched in abject astonishment. Usually she had to be the one fighting Cuchulainn Alter, so being able to sit back and observe how he fought was both a refreshing change of pace and a horrifying sight for her to behold. She couldn’t help but notice a distinct parallel between them as well; violent, blood-soaked men who were covered in thorns and curses, fighting each other with the fervor of wild Phantasmals in order to protect the things that mattered to them the most. She wasn’t sure if she should assist her father or stay back and let him take care of this battle.

While she was preoccupied, she heard some kind of sickening squishing sound nearby and turned to look. To her surprise, around a dozen Horrors had found the battle site and wrapped themselves around the trees in order to ambush them. Cuchulainn noticed this too and snarled, “Ugly bastards.”

“Looks like Caster plans on swarming all of us, regardless if we’re friend or foe,” Vlad muttered grimly.

Connla was about to fight the monsters herself, but suddenly felt Cuchulainn grab her shawl and lift her right off her feet, then he tossed her a good distance away. Although disoriented, she safely landed just outside the forest’s border. While being thrown, she finally got to see Copenhagen Fort in its dark, menacing glory. An eerie aura surrounded its walls, and there appeared to be hundreds of lesser Horrors cavorting about. Even further in the northern distance were the signs of war being raged between Agravain’s knights and the Valhallan forces.

Cuchulainn shouted at her, “I’ve got this! Get in there and stop Caster before he overwhelms us!”

“I’m on it!” she exclaimed without really thinking about it, and dashed for the open drawbridge, swinging her spear about to slice away some creatures that tried to impede her progress.

_“No, you don’t!”_ Vlad shouted and tried to cut her off, but Cuchulainn swung Gae Bolg at his chest to intercept, forcing him to block with Kazikli Bey. The two men, completely surrounded by wild demons in a circular formation, readied themselves to take on what would certainly become a three-way fight.


	14. Fitting Punishment

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 14: Fitting Punishment**

Sigurd and Brynhildr were about 100 meters apart from each other, still mounted on their steeds. They stared into each other’s eyes, despite there being such a great distance between them. They were as close as embracing lovers, yet as far apart as complete strangers living on opposite corners of the world. It was difficult to describe the tension between them, having fallen in love with each other while they were alive – or rather, in _this_ time and place. They had to remember that their living versions were still out there and had not met each other yet.

Sigurd raised Gram to his side. Brynhildr raised Brynhildr Romantia to her side. They were mirrors to each other. One would fight to preserve the inevitable future that awaited them. The other sought to destroy any possibility of them meeting.

Sigurd thought he was going to be sick, and it took every ounce of courage he had not to succumb to the despair welling inside him. Even though Brynhildr was mad with love and thus didn’t think the same way as most people, he still possessed his reasoning and logic. Right now though, he wished his mind really wasn’t as clear as the ice around them. Falling into some kind of insanity of his own would make this battle a lot easier to stomach for him. He genuinely had a difficult time understanding how Brynhildr would kill the people she loved. To him, love was supposed to be about nurturing and fostering relationships, not about killing each other to preserve what few good feelings remained between them.

Alas, he had a job to do as Frigg’s Servant. The goddess was counting on him to stop this crisis, and he would do whatever it took to get the job done.

Without a word, both warriors charged their horses toward each other. Their weapons shone intensely as they drew nearer to each other. They let out the most feral battle cries they could muster.

**_BOOM!_ **

A fantastic explosion of blues and violets sent snow flying everywhere. The legendary weapons clashed with power that could only be described as god-like. Both stallions went flying off in opposite directions, stunned by the incredible force violently pushing them away. The Servants jumped off their mounts and landed close to each other, their weapons still pulsing with energy. Brynhildr silently floated into the air and raised her spear above her. Sigurd clenched his teeth, knowing what this meant – she was going to use her Noble Phantasm on him. Even worse, it was going to be its most powerful against _him_ specifically, since it was the manifestation of her tragic love for him. It was said that the spear could weigh 5000 kilograms at maximum love, meaning he would have to contend against 5 tons of sheer force.

In response, he stood tall and made Gram vanish for a moment, then generated a series of small aqua daggers that he used his fists to launch toward her. Then Gram returned to him and he likewise punched it at her. His idea was that instead of trying to overcome a spear that could kill even the mightiest of gods, he would go around it and strike down Brynhildr herself.

The mythril spear of love and hate, versus the demonic sword of glory and ruin… It was hard to say which one was mightier. Both of them shouted the Noble Phantasms’ True Names, their voices echoing in the hollow winter winds:

**_“Brynhildr Romantia!”_ **

**_“Bolverk Gram!”_ **

* * *

The piercing sounds of metal striking metal reverberated throughout the outer borders of Copenhagen. Cuchulainn and Vlad were already in the midst of a heated battle, slashing at each other with the ferocity of wild beasts. Cuchulainn clearly had the advantage in terms of raw strength, but at the detriment of only having a singular spear to wield. On the other hand, Vlad could make dozens of miniature lances appear from his body and all around the ground at will. Cuchulainn flipped away from his opponent when a volley of spikes converged upon him, threatening to pierce him everywhere.

The Berserker grinned wildly. Even though he narrowly avoided death who knew how many times by now, it was during times like this that he felt truly alive. Sure, watching over Connla inside Mini-Cu was fine since he could experience her thrilling battles as a spectator, but it felt _much_ better for him to personally eviscerate his enemies and make sure they were truly dead so they wouldn’t harass him any longer. He rushed back at the irritated Vlad and swung Gae Bolg over his head. Vlad blocked it with Kazliki Bey, mustering all of the strength he could to keep his enemy back. They glared at each other with both mad glee and sheer frustration.

“Kh!” Cuchulainn suddenly snarled and jumped back. Vlad likewise did the same. In that instant, a wave of tentacles swarmed over the spot they were, hoping they could drown the two men beneath a torrent of appendages.

_“Do not interfere!”_ Vlad raged and gouged the offending limbs into imperceptible pieces.

Cuchulainn believed this was the best chance to kill Vlad while he was distracted. While rushing toward him however, he felt a large thorn penetrate his right foot. He scowled and tried to shut his mind off from the painful sensation, but that was when dozens of more thorns literally coursed through his bloodstream and exploded out of his skin in disturbing bursts of blood. For a few brief seconds, Cuchulainn couldn’t move his limbs. His eyes went totally blank for a moment, and blood gushed out of his throat. It was only when Vlad extracted the thorns out of Cuchulainn could the horribly wounded Berserker regain control of his body.

“Gh… Bastard…” he growled deeply. He was sure his heart had been run through multiple times. It was only thanks to his infamous Battle Continuation skill that he could actually feel the mind-numbing agony throbbing in his chest - this was a kind of pain that would kill lesser men, no questions asked. He instinctively used some Runes to lessen the torturous feeling of being torn apart from the inside, but only enough to keep himself going in this chaotic three-way battle.

Luckily for Cuchulainn, Vlad was preoccupied with fending off more Horrors as they sought to avenge their fallen brethren. He looked back to find more demons converging upon him though, so he swung Gae Bolg in a single horizontal slash. A red line drew itself in the air, and a good number of monsters were cleaved into clean halves. That didn’t seem to matter to their replacements though as they came charging at the infuriated Berserker.

“This is getting annoying…” he glowered with a tone and expression that would frighten Demon Pillars.

The blood-soaked hero-turned-monster’s eyes dilated into tiny red dots as he lapsed into a bout of raw anger. He arched his back and unleashed an inhuman cry:

**_“HRAAA~AAA~AAAGH!”_ **

Suddenly, Vlad and the Horrors felt some kind of chilling sensation claw away at their very souls. It resembled a bunch of invisible skeletal hands reaching up from under the ground and attempting to pull them into the depths of Hell itself. Of course that wasn’t really happening, but the fright it inspired certainly felt genuine. This was another one of Cuchulainn Alter’s skills, Madness of the Spirits, where his monstrous roar would incite the spirits of the damned to converge upon his targets and petrify them with fear. This in turn made their attacks much less effective. Although the shaken yet determined Vlad showed no signs of retreating, the mindless tentacles reacted with the terror Cuchulainn was looking for, and they slowly backed away.

Unfortunately, Cuchulainn knew this was only a temporary distraction. He grit his sharpened teeth and glared over toward Copenhagen, having only one thought in mind:

_Hurry it up, kid!_

* * *

Connla scampered across the snow like a harried rabbit, keeping her eyes focused on the fortress as she drew nearer to it. She hopped over some Horrors that tried to trip her and slashed at them fervently, chopping them into pieces. For a second, she thought she heard a man’s scream in the distance, but she couldn’t pause to wonder what was going on. She believed that Mordred had waited long enough to be rescued from Agravain’s torture, plus she needed to deal with Caster as soon as possible.

As Connla reached closer to the drawbridge, the tentacles increased in number to try and prevent her from getting inside. Her short legs scurried at a rapid pace, and her vision was concentrated on a gap through the slithering appendages that was gradually closing in on it itself. With a loud yell, she leapt forth in a diving stance and managed to pass through seconds before the hole was covered. She somersaulted along the rug leading into the foyer, but she wasted no time celebrating her close call as the angered tentacles raced after her. She continued running at tremendous speeds, outpacing her slimy pursuers while also cutting down any that got in her way.

_There’s a strong source of mana emanating from below. Has Caster set his workshop up in the dungeon?_

As Connla got deeper into the fortress, she realized that she didn’t have as many tentacles to contend with. The vast majority of them were crawling about on the exterior, with only the occasional guard lurking about within. Once she found an opportunity, she took some time to let her aching lungs recover while she investigated the castle for the entrance to the dungeon. At first, she believed it would be difficult to find since the dungeon was perhaps the least appealing aspect of a royal castle, so it would be expected that the entrance would be concealed in some obscure location. However, when she stumbled upon the courtroom, she found plenty of macabre signs of where she could find the gaol.

_Ugh. There’s a long trail of slime. And this other substance is…_

She didn’t need to finish that thought. It was blood. Not just blood, but viscera and cleaved flesh were strewn about and rotting away, causing a ghoulish odor to permeate the entire courtroom. Connla covered her nose and headed inside while looking around at the mess, steeling herself so that she didn’t contribute to the disastrous scene by throwing up. She dared not breathe more than necessary, but it was difficult to hold her breath when she repeatedly gasped in horror at the bloodstained clothes lying about. Even worse, they were small enough to fit children her size.

“…”

The world turned sepia in her vision. Her brain worked overtime to block out the desire to scream and howl in despair. She concentrated on carrying one foot in front of the other, following the convenient gore trail to the wide open wooden doors of the castle basement. Every stone step leading down was splattered with more entrails, and her boots made a sickening _squish_ sound each time she advanced. Soon she reached the bottom and ran along the bumpy stone flooring, passing by dozens of thick iron-bar jail cells. Each cell had been repurposed into mini-laboratories for whatever demented fetishes Caster wanted to mete on his victims. Connla did her best to ignore what was inside each chamber, keeping her eyes focused only on the path ahead.

She went down more flights of stairs and realized that the fortress wasn’t just intimidating from the ground up – it was virtually a subterranean world she was venturing into. This was a world where things like morals and the value of human life meant nothing. This was a place where human malice and hatred were allowed to be unleashed without fear of punishment or justice. She constantly kept her emotions in check as she commanded her feet to go forward one step at a time. She only stopped when she heard something that would freeze blood:

“Oh… _OOOOHHHH!_ ”

A man’s shrill, orgasmic-like cry reverberated through the darkness. Connla had never heard such a sharp, piercing voice before… Or had she?

After several seconds of the man’s delighted whale-like screaming, he exclaimed, “At long last! The reunion that I have spent years dreaming of is finally happening! What joy it is to finally see you again! You’re as vibrant and gallant as I remember!”

Her heart raced as she grew uncertain of what he was saying. Nevertheless, she faced the darkness and asked, “Reunion? Remembered? I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Oh, do pardon my rudeness. I suppose it is prudent that we reminisce of our brief time together before you join me in the abyss. Come now, don’t be shy. Come closer so that I may see your face.”

She swallowed, apprehensive of heeding such a creepy beckoning. A short while passed where she remained fixed on the spot, so Gilles sighed and said, “Perhaps a Child of Light such as yourself is not used to such a lightless atmosphere. Very well, allow me to illuminate the way for you.”

He raised his arms, and on his mental command, dozens of small candles lit up. The scene that appeared before Connla was so appalling that she almost dropped her spear by accident.

No vocabulary in any language could describe this. For starters, it felt like she was in the deepest part of the ocean – the hadal zone, also known as the most unexplored territory of Earth, and which humans possessed the least understanding of. She was aware of marine life living in the hadal zone that appeared more like creatures out of eldritch nightmares, which fascinated some and disgusted others. The hadal zone obviously derived its name from Hades, the land of the dead where sinners toiled in turmoil for eternity.

This was perhaps the best way to describe Gilles’ state of mind taking form in his idea of ‘esthetics’. Dozens, if not hundreds of mutilated bodies were affixed to the surrounding walls with thick stakes, as if mocking the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. What was worse was that the majority of these corpses belonged to children who had been brutally maimed, then healed by Gilles only to be dismembered in such a way that they experienced every horrible second of it until they expired. He then desecrated their remnants and repurposed them as decorations for his workshop. The pungent smell of death seemed to be in a heated contest with the hideous furnishings for which one would cause her to faint.

“…”

There was nothing Connla could say about this. She could yell and curse at Gilles for being such a monster, but her cries would just be ignored. She could fall to her knees and vomit all of her insides, but that would expose her to attack. All she could do was keep her eyes trained on the man in the center of the room – despite his horrid appearance and deteriorating sanity, he was perhaps the only palatable thing she could look at right now. At a time like this, Aife’s insistence that Connla suppress her emotions before the enemy turned out to be a wise lesson.

“Welcome to my atelier, Son of Cuchulainn!” Gilles declared in a drawling tone that mimicked how actors delivered their lines in _kabuki_ plays. “How have you been? Have you been helping others the same way you helped me all those years ago? Ah, but perhaps it has only been mere weeks for you since we last met. Indeed, you appear no different than before.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Connla said in a dull, flat tone. “Explain why you’re being so familiar with me.”

“Oh, my. You haven’t figured out who I am?”

“You’re Gilles de Rais, one of the world’s most infamous serial killers, and a Denialist responsible for kidnapping people to harvest their mana.”

“Correct, correct. But I’m not just any Gilles de Rais, no, no! Think for a moment. Do you remember coming to my world and assisting me in curbing a group of bandits who were attacking some merchants?”

Connla’s stoic expression cracked as she widened her eyes. How could she possibly forget that incident? It was her very first THREAD excursion, and the journey that proved the viability of Da Vinci’s Bloodstone project. Her jaw dropped as she uttered, “You’re _that_ Sir Gilles!?”

The gallant man clad in green clothing and silver armor that she remembered had now become one of human history’s worst serial killers. Yes, she knew that would be the irrevocable outcome of Gilles de Rais, a living antithesis of the moral values that humans often extolled. Yet, never in her fanciest of fancies would she actually meet Gilles in one world only to encounter a radically different version of the very same man in another world.

“That’s impossible,” she gasped. “How did you leave your world and come to this one!?”

“Through my Master’s good grace and miraculous power,” he responded. “It is the same for all of us Denialists – we have been pulled from our worlds and united in this one, intent on seeking destruction for our own purposes. Did you not experience the same phenomenon as well?”

She recalled the pink aura surrounding her and Mordred as they were thrown off course during their Rayshift. She mumbled, “Y-Your Master… Do you know who this person is?”

“Nay, I fear I do not. Though I felt their words in my mind, their voice was completely silent. It seems they did not wish to be identified.”

“I see… Then there’s no point in continuing this conversation.”

The young Lancer raised her spear and pointed it at Gilles, then declared, “There are many relying on me to quell your dark ambitions. Though we may have been allies before, we stand here as enemies. By the end of this battle, only one of us will survive.”

“Of course,” Gilles smiled jubilantly. He felt relieved that she wasn’t wasting his time lecturing him on his gross misdeeds. “I would not have it any other way. Come, then! Show me the fortitude you once demonstrated before! Show me that there is hope for sinners like me to be delivered the justice they so deserve! Falter even just a little, and you shall become part of my beloved collection!”

She got into her combat stance and tightened her expression. He leaned forth and glared at her intently, preparing Prelati’s Spellbook for further usage. The murderous intent between them overcame the dreadful feelings she had experienced. She had a job to do, and she would not be satisfied until he was dead. She wasn’t sure if she truly was going to punish him for his sins, but she knew that this could not go unabated any longer. If not for the victims who had already perished, then she needed to stop him so no one else would suffer. Being Caster’s slayer was one of the roles she needed to fulfill in this world.

After all, who was more fitting to punish a serial child murderer than a child Servant?

Without a word, Connla rushed toward Gilles in a burst of swirling winds. He fired a series of black energy bolts at her, but she either dodged them or batted them aside with her spear. As she got within striking range however, a bevy of appendages wrapped all around Gilles’ body, and he sunk beneath the indigo pentagram etched on the floor. Her spear swing narrowly missed him, and she realized she was fully exposed to a horde of writhing tentacles that practically swallowed her whole.

Gilles re-emerged from a different spot in the dungeon and happily stared at his handiwork. If a normal child had been in the same situation as Connla, they would either have suffocated to death or been sliced up by the creatures’ teeth. However, he noticed some flame-colored light shining inside the mass of arms. A searing heat exploded from within, incinerating all of the tentacles yet somehow leaving Connla intact. She had conjured a number of Ansuz Runes to free herself from their wrath – to Gilles, she looked surprisingly fierce within the fiery remnants of the explosion. She jumped upon the walls and bounced about everywhere, hoping to confuse him so she could get a good strike at his back. He remained unfazed however, and he raised his arms toward the numerous staked corpses lining the walls. To Connla’s surprise, the mutilated bodies wriggled to life before bursting like pustules.

_Damn it! They’re not just bodies – they’re hives!_

The human limbs, torsos and heads were actually housing some smaller Horrors that had been secretly feasting on the entrails. Upon seeing live prey however, hundreds of small insect-like demons chased after her as a singular infestation. She swung her weapon about to kill any that got close, then landed and thrust her hand forth.

“Hail is cold grain, shower of sleet, and sickness of serpents. _Haglaz!_ ”

A blue Runic letter resembling an H with a slanted center line appeared upon her palm. From the Rune emanated a ferocious storm of grape-sized hail that relentlessly pelted the small creatures, killing the majority of the swarm and forcing the remainder to retreat back to their alternate dimension. With her other hand, Connla conjured another Haglaz Rune and directed it at the surprised Gilles. He managed to hide behind some larger Horrors, but they were battered so badly that some hail stones struck his flesh as the monsters disintegrated around him.

“Unbelievable! To think that a Lancer would attempt to best a Caster such as myself in contests of magic!” Gilles exclaimed. Connla wasn’t sure if he was horrified, frustrated, or elated. He continued, “However! Do not fool yourself into believing you have the advantage here! This is the den of sin, and I am its master! No longer do you have any hope of escape from my world of despair!”

Suddenly, his eyeballs popped out of their sockets – the dark irises were surrounded by easily an inch or two of pure white sclera, which shouldn’t have been possible for humans. His face creased at unnatural angles, and his smile spread out so wide that Connla thought the top of his head would fall right off.  He resembled a fish that was suffering from exophthalmia, or pop-eye disease. He clenched his squared teeth and raised Prelati’s Spellbook high, conjuring all of its powers to unleash the eponymous Noble Phantasm.

**_“Heh heh hah hah hah! AAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH! MAY YOUR SCREAMS REACH THE HEAVENS!”_ **

Following that vile laugh, a wave of thick tentacle legs washed out from the pentagram on the floor and slithered in unison toward Connla. However, she didn’t appear to be perturbed by this advance whatsoever. In a voice that sounded much older than normal, she chanted the haunting phrase:

_“Concealed identities. Blinking vignettes. Unsolved mysteries. Return from the void and be the wind that guides my nameless spear…”_

An instant before the demonic appendages reached her, she disappeared in a miniature tornado, leaving nothing but a mint green shimmer as proof she had been previously there. Gilles became confused, wondering where the girl could vanish to in such cramped quarters. She was much like a ghost who just escaped from the corner of his eye. No, perhaps it wasn’t just her… He swore he saw some kind of apparition move. He looked over, but there wasn’t anything. More movement, and more frustrated glaring around… For a second, a bizarre terror gripped his heart. For someone who was supposed to be the harbinger of fear, being the one to experience that very same fear didn’t make any sense to him.

Then he felt something strange run across his stomach… then his arm… then his leg… Over and over again, a bizarre cutting sensation ripped through him without remorse. It wasn’t any more painful than a needle pricking skin, yet he realized that he couldn’t move anymore. The tentacles were likewise sliced in every direction, reducing them to useless pieces that some giant could use to cook a seafood stew with.

About ten seconds later, Connla landed back in the very same spot she vanished from, facing her back to him. Although she appeared calm, she breathed heavily from the exhaustion of unleashing her Noble Phantasm, Laoch Gan Finsceal (“Hero Without Legend”). What had happened in those brief moments was that the souls of all the people Gilles had murdered in this chamber (and thus “heroes without legend” themselves) responded to her calls and passed on their rage to her, turning her into a temporary spirit medium. Then she unleashed their vengeance upon him as an imperceptible razor-sharp tornado, similar to how the Japanese _kamaitachi_ attacked their victims. Although she frequently used fire magic, she was inherently attuned to the wind as an element. Once the enemy was cut up enough, the spirits would release their hold on her and rest in peace.

Connla and Gilles remained perfectly still. Both of their expressions were firm yet mellow. Even though only a few seconds passed, the incredible silence surrounding them made it feel like as if they were floating in the hollow reaches of outer space. Incidentally, the grotesque décor that Gilles displayed had all been decimated in the fierce hurricane, revealing the blood-soaked stone walls and numerous stakes protruding like porcupine spines.

Soon, the child Lancer stood back up, twirled her spear, and murmured coldly, “It’s over.”

“… So it would seem,” Gilles agreed in a vapid tone.

_Plop. Plop, plop, plop._

One by one, pieces of him fell onto the floor. His entire body collapsed in a cascade of cleanly-cut meat and bone, with copious amounts of blood spewing everywhere. Connla’s Noble Phantasm had butchered him so immensely that he had even been decapitated. His head rolled onto its side like a discarded ball. His bulging eyes were entirely focused on the little girl’s backside. She refused to look at him anymore, unable to stomach the result of her strongest attack. It had happened so quickly that there was absolutely no blood on her spear.

Through some miracle, Gilles was still alive, though it could only last less than a minute. His mind wandered far, far away from reality, and into the vision of a beautiful blonde-haired woman clad in silver armor as she raised a huge white flag amidst roaring flames. Her back was turned to him as well, but not out of revulsion. She was merely facing forward in her journey to save France in the name of God, even though it would lead to her being condemned by the same people she was trying to save. This was the back that Gilles was proud to follow; the back that Gilles would give his life for to protect; the back that Gilles transformed himself into a monster for.

“Ahh…”

He could see the same conviction and radiance in Connla as he stared at her back. Her light possessed a completely different cadence, as if comparing gold to platinum, but it was just as pure and beautiful. The two females overlapped in his vision, and his wide open eyes started to close in relief. This was the reason he desperately sought to reunite with Connla – he wanted to see the soul of his beloved Jeanne shine inside her, as if the saint had been reincarnated and given a second chance to protect others.

In that regard, Gilles no longer had any reason to terrorize the people of this foreign world. He could die fulfilled, having caught a glimpse of his Holy Maiden as he so wished. A smile of genuine happiness crossed his lips as he said his final words:

“Go do what you must… Innocent Hero…”

The child didn’t acknowledge him. She merely sprinted on ahead, leaving Gilles’ body to dissipate in tiny indigo particles.


	15. Elegance, Violence, Justice

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 15: Elegance, Violence, Justice**

The northwestern frontier was alive with the bedlam of raging war. The Valhallan forces’ valiant men and elegant lady warriors pressed on the charge against the swarm of faceless knights and abominable demons pouring out of Copenhagen. Hundreds of Valkyries gracefully soared about through the air like swans, swooping in to kill any enemies that their chosen soldiers could not handle on their own.

“Kuh! There’s so many of them!” Hildr grunted while stabbing her lance through a knight’s throat.

“Don’t let their numbers sway you! We have our sisters and the world’s finest warriors on our side!” Ortlinde shouted. She flew aside from some Horrors that attempted to gang up on her, then emitted radiant light from her body to incinerate them.

Hildr ducked low to avoid a knight’s swinging mace, then ran her spear through their chest. The fallen warrior fell onto their back, and their helmet nearly slipped off their head. She got a quick peek at the face hidden beneath… Or rather, the freakish lack thereof. She scowled, “Damn! Agravain isn’t producing human soldiers! These guys are as monstrous as Caster’s creatures!”

“Focus, Hildr!” Thrud chastised her sister while flying past. She gouged out a Horror’s innards with a single stroke of her spear, then performed a dive kick upon another one that was ganging up on an Amazon woman.

That was when a green-haired Valkyrie approached them and shouted, “Sister Thrud, I have a status report!”

“What is it?”

“Some of the men have notified us that Caster’s monsters are vanishing on their own!”

“What do you mean-?” Thrud was about to ask, but then looked around at the writhing abominations and realized they weren’t engaging the Valhallans anymore. They flailed about in throes of confusion before going limp and disappearing in tufts of black smoke. The knights appeared to be momentarily stunned by the loss of their otherworldly comrades.

“Nice!” Hildr exclaimed triumphantly. “Sigurd’s party managed to take Caster out!”

“That should instantly cut the enemy forces down by a third, at minimum,” Ortlinde said.

“That means they’re getting the job done! Now I’m really fired up! I can’t let Sigurd get the drop on me, or else Sister Brynhildr would never forgive me!”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about… Well never mind that. Let’s just strike while Agravain’s men are caught off guard.”

Upon seeing the Horrors’ demise, the majority of Valhalla’s warriors unleashed a motivational battle cry that echoed throughout the entire area.

* * *

Agravain scowled.

He could hear the victorious shouting even from atop the fortress battlement. Although he couldn’t clearly see what was going on, he could easily witness the tentacle monsters that he had dispatched as guards vanishing from this world.

_Impossible,_ he thought in disbelief. _How has Caster fallen so easily? Brynhildr and Vlad should be keeping Sigurd and Connla preoccupied, and all other enemy forces are at the front line. Who can possibly be around to kill Gilles? Unless…_

He furiously turned on his heel and stormed toward the torture room where he had been keeping Mordred chained up in. He slammed the heavy steel door open, revealing a couple of knights who were busy shoving needles through Mordred. The teenager looked so exhausted that she would have been mistaken for being dead had she not been breathing heavily.

“You there,” Agravain said to his knights. “Has the killer dog left this room at any point?”

“Not possible, my lord,” one of the men said with a robotic tone. “We have been extracting obedience from her, as you have ordered us. However, she has not yielded to our demands and refuses to use the Command Spells.”

“Which means her alibi is airtight. Tch!”

“Alibi, sir?”

“Never mind that. You two go assist the vanguard with the war. I will take care of this uncooperative bitch myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

The knights left without another word, then Agravain approached Mordred. She glared up at him with bared teeth and fierce malice in her eyes. If she could, her eyes would have lit up with actual flames, akin to what the Amazonian queen Penthesilea was capable of in a berserker rage.

“Well… How do you… like me now… motherfucker…?” Mordred cursed between labored gasps.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to hate you any more than I already do,” Agravain snapped. “I thought you would be useful, but I suppose that was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“Fuck you. I’ll never… submit to you…”

“Fine. I don’t need your submission anymore.”

“W-What do you…?”

Without another word, Agravain tore the Iron Commandments off the wall, making sure that Mordred remained bound to them. He crudely dragged her along the ground like a sack of potatoes, not caring if she got hurt or if her wounds were exacerbated by the friction.

“Ugh! Damn it! Where are you taking me _now_!?” she demanded.

“Now that Caster is dead, I have no consistent means of supplying the Grail with the mana needed to initiate Ragnarok,” he explained flatly, not looking back at her as he continued walking.

“C-Caster’s dead?”

“I just confirmed it with my own eyes.”

“Hah. Then that means you can kiss your dream of world destruction good-bye.”

“Don’t delude yourself, dog. Why do you think I kept you around for so long even though I figured you would be useless to me?”

“Beats me. I don’t have a sick imagination like you do.”

“It’s not just od from living humans that I can give to the Grail. Servants such as you and I are nothing more than high-density ghosts that sustain ourselves with mana. That means we’re essentially pure mana concentrated into human form and given the pattern of a Heroic Spirit. When a Grail is around, any Servants that die during a war will have their mana gathered into the chalice, boosting its power exponentially.”

“Hey, don’t tell me…” Mordred’s heart seized up.

“Looks like you figured it out, wench. I’ll give _you_ up to the Grail in place of the human sacrifices that Gilles would have collected for me. As a nice bonus, the Son of Cuchulainn should also disappear since she is bound to your Command Spells.”

_“Shit!”_

To Agravain’s surprise, Mordred suddenly clamped her teeth around the corner of a stone wall. Although it wasn’t much, the biting force was enough to keep him from moving forward. He tugged the chains a few times, but she refused to let go. He suddenly stomped his foot over her head repeatedly until she lost her grip, and he pulled along more violently than before. She shouted and wriggled about constantly in a futile effort to get him to stop. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the halls leading to the altar, and the chilling sound of chains scraping against stone indicated this.

* * *

It took a good five minutes for the world to stop shaking.

The force of Sigurd and Brynhildr’s Noble Phantasms clashing against each other caused the immediate area around them to rock about in a violent tumult. Neither Servant moved from their positions, exhausted from both unleashing their strongest attacks _and_ trying to survive against each other. At the end of it all, Sigurd had managed to go around Brynhildr Romantia and lacerate Brynhildr’s pale skin with the fusillade of blue swords he had launched at her. That didn’t mean he escaped unscathed however; breaking through the shockwave of her Noble Phantasm destroyed a good portion of his armor, so part of his bleeding shoulders and chest were now exposed to the frigid elements.

He gasped and stood back up, then looked back to see how she was faring. He found her crouched within a massive crater that her 5 ton attack had created. It was the aftermath of this attack that had caused the ground to rumble like an earthquake. Any and all snow that had been around had been pushed about 500 meters away like a spectacular splash of water, leaving nothing but grass and dirt. Brynhildr likewise got to her feet silently and faced Sigurd with an expressionless look in her blank eyes. Blood trickled out of the many cuts on her skin, staining her porcelain figure red.

He wouldn’t give her the chance to strike first however. He rushed toward the edge of the crater, then jumped high and descended upon her with Gram in hand. Brynhildr raised her spear to parry his downward strike, then pushed him off and swung about furiously. Ironically, the refined lady’s blows lacked any sort of grace, while the ragged fellow’s blocks were calculated and precise. They eventually got into a stalemate and stared into each other’s eyes. Whether they were looking at each other as lovers or opponents was difficult to say.

“Brynhildr…” Sigurd grunted. “Please, stop this foolishness.”

“I will not. I must undo the mistake I made of falling in love with you.”

“You don’t understand. I never got the chance to tell you, but I had been brainwashed into loving Gudrun. Not once did I betray you – such a thought would never have entered my mind had it not been for that woman.”

“I already know… I already know about it… That duel we had where you were disguised as Gunnar… I knew everything… It was complete sophistry… Yet, you did nothing to warn me of Gudrun’s involvement in that conspiracy against me. You, Father, Gudrun, Gunnar… all of you wanted to ruin my life. All of you wanted to laugh at me as I toiled and suffered beneath the crushing weight of your feet…”

“That’s not true! I never laughed at you!”

“It’s too late now, Sigurd. I have no need for any of you. I would rather sleep for eternity within Mt. Hindarfjall than be dragged out to be miserable for your entertainment.”

“Gh-!”

How was he supposed to get through to her? No amount of reasoning on his part would convince her. She was so absorbed in her own torment that she refused to understand how much of a hardship this was for him too. They dueled for a bit longer, then Brynhildr conjured a series of Runes that caused flames to explode all around her. Rather than leap back to avoid the conflagration, Sigurd decided to take it head-on and charged at her. He resisted the urge to scream as the searing fire rushed past him and scalded his skin. His glasses cracked from the force, yet he pressed on and snatched his hands around Brynhildr’s upper arms, immobilizing her.

**_“Stop this already!”_** he screamed into her face.

“Ah!?” She had never seen him look so incensed before. Their eyes were so close to each other’s that she could see her reflection upon his spectacles.

“ _You’re_ the one who doesn’t understand! Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to watch you agonize like this!?”

“I…”

“Your immense power and killing intent are proof of how much you love me. Though I am honored, you’re the one who needs to open your eyes to one basic truth…”

His icy blue eyes flared up, shining brighter than the flames he just endured.

_“How am I supposed to prove MY love to you if I’m dead!?”_

Brynhildr looked utterly confused. All this time, she honestly believed that Sigurd only used her as a means of making himself stronger by gaining any knowledge she had on Runecraft. Once her utility had been exhausted, he then left her behind to go on more adventures and make a name for himself. She had been a fool for not realizing this and waited with bated breath for his return. At least, that was what she believed. It never occurred to her about what Sigurd’s true feelings were, since she thought he didn’t have any for her.

Sigurd continued, “I don’t care how many times you try to kill me. I will survive each and every time, and I _will_ prove my undying dedication to you! It’s what you deserve, isn’t it!?”

“I… I don’t… deserve… anything…” Brynhildr’s mind raced as an onslaught of emotions overcame her. “I can’t look at you… I mustn’t…”

“Look me in the eye, Brynhildr. Do you _really_ want our first meeting to never have happened? Do you regret having met me? Because let me tell you something – I never regretted meeting you!”

“…”

“That time we spent together were the happiest days of my life! I don’t want to lose those memories at all! If I allowed you to go ahead and kill the living version of me right now, I would never get to experience the joy of loving a woman as wonderful as you! That’s why I’m doing everything I can to stop you!”

Brynhildr’s throat and chest tightened up. She wanted so badly to compose herself, but the emotions were just too powerful for her to overcome. She suddenly pushed him away and grasped her head, letting out a piercing wail of torment that echoed several times. Tears streamed down her face, and her jaw dropped low as she clawed at her cheeks. Sigurd wanted to hold her tight and tell her everything was okay, but he sensed that something was seriously wrong with her and held back. When she opened her eyes, he noticed that their hue had changed from a gentle lavender to a frightful cherry pink.

“M-Mas… ter…!” she yelped. “F-Forgive me…! I am… not worthy enough… for you…!”

Inside her mind, she could feel someone else ‘speaking’ to her. Although they didn’t possess a voice, she could ‘feel’ their disjointed words;

_“thAt iS FiNe. If yOu are UNAble tO kILL SigURd, thEN aT LEaST fuLFILl youR ORIGinaL prOMisE tO mE…”_

“My… original promise… Of course,” Brynhildr whispered and ceased panicking. “Though I have failed myself, I will not fail you, my Master.”

To Sigurd’s surprise, she crouched for a moment, then used some Runes to launch herself into the sky.

_“Brynhildr!”_ he shouted, alarmed that she would attempt to flee rather than do whatever she could to kill him. At first he was confused as to where she could be going when his death was always her top priority. However, when he noticed that she was heading for Copenhagen Fortress, that was when his mind raced with the realization that Brynhildr had another target in mind:

_Connla!_

Sigurd knew that, although Brynhildr was a woman who followed her own heart, she would suppress her personal desires to follow her Master’s orders. Since whoever her Master was wanted Connla dead, Brynhildr would forego killing Sigurd so that she could at least complete her original objective. Sigurd scowled so intensely that his gallant features were lost beneath the ugly creases of fury and desperation. With Grani gone, he had no choice but to pursue her by foot.

* * *

Meanwhile, Cuchulainn and Vlad fiercely glared at the impending swarm of Horrors that were about to overcome them. However, right when Connla killed Gilles, the monsters began to disintegrate into a dark, ink-colored haze. With their connection to this world severed, they had no means of sustaining themselves and were forced back to their alternate dimension.

Once the cacophony died down into silence, Cuchulainn grinned and muttered to himself proudly, “About time you did it, kid.”

“Hmph,” Vlad grunted. “I knew it was too risky to have someone as deranged as Gilles as an ally.”

“Looks like that wasn’t your call though.”

“No. Only someone with a similar mindset like Agravain would find utility in that madman.”

“Is that right?”

After that brief respite, the two men turned to face each other, spears in hand. With the monsters no longer interrupting them, they could initiate the real duel and see which one of them was the more vicious and bloodthirsty one. Both of them were not in top condition however; Cuchulainn just barely survived Vlad’s deadly piercing attack that had coursed through his entire body, while Vlad had lost way more blood from the Horrors biting and gnawing at his body whenever they had the chance.

“Looks like neither of us are in shape to have a drawn-out match,” Cuchulainn snarled. “Guess I better get serious then.”

Without warning, a turbulent aura of blacks, reds and greens swirled around the grinning Berserker, which surprised Vlad. After a moment,  he stepped forth to reveal his terrifying visage. Vlad’s eyes widened. He was no longer looking at Cuchulainn, Ulster’s greatest hero. Taking his place was a humanoid beast, with his head and shoulders completely enveloped in jagged black armor and red spikes, with a massive crimson horn sticking out of the forehead of the helmet. His arms and hands were wrapped in a pair of gigantic claws that could eviscerate even the legendary mammoths into pieces.

“What blasphemy is this!?” Vlad shouted angrily.

“Don’t you know?” Cuchulainn smirked beneath the helmet. “If a parent loves their child enough, they’ll gladly become a monster in order to protect them. Isn’t it the same with you and your beloved Wallachia?”

“Y-You…! _Don’t you mock me!_ ”

The enraged Vlad charged at Cuchulainn, surrounding himself with a volley of spikes that shot for him. Cuchulainn merely swiped one of his talons, cutting through the thorns as if they weren’t even there, then met his foe in fierce combat. He swung once more at the Wallachian prince’s midsection, but he rolled aside and left the claws to cleave through a tree. The trunk was serrated into several clean chunks, and it collapsed in a tumult of snow behind Cuchulainn as he glared at Vlad.

“I will banish you back to Hell if it is the last thing I do, Mad Hound of Ulster!” he raged. “This, I swear as a servant of God’s will!”

“Interesting. Do your worst then. Show me how terrifying your so-called God is.”

“God does not bring terror upon His children! That is why He creates people like me! I am His sword to punish the unfaithful, and His shield to protect His most devout followers! _Now, experience the full might of the Son of Dracul!_ ”

Vlad raised his arms forth and commanded thousands upon thousands of spears to pierce through the snow toward the nonchalant Cuchulainn. Like what he did to Mordred before, Vlad unleashed his Noble Phantasm, Kazliki Bey, which served as an anecdote to how he impaled over 20,000 enemies in order to inspire fear among those who defied him. However, Cuchulainn wasn’t fazed by this display of gore and carnage. He charged forth without hesitation and clawed his way through the protruding lances, although a great number of them gouged and cut through his armor and flesh. A portion of his helmet was penetrated through, so Cuchulainn’s cheek was likewise gashed. Even so, he kept his bloodthirsty eyes trained on the astonished Vlad as he continued his relentless pursuit through the field of blades.

Finally, Cuchulainn breached through the onslaught and was only a couple of feet away from Vlad. With one merciless swoop, he carved his talons through the Lancer’s spiked armor as if it was papier-mâché while shouting the name of his Noble Phantasm:

**_“Curruid Coinchenn!”_ **

Vlad couldn’t even yelp, never mind scream. His body literally split down the middle, exposing his skeleton and organs from the neck down. Several smaller Gae Bolgs exploded out of his back like demonic wings, tearing out his spine and sending buckets of blood flying all over the snow. The mutilated Lancer couldn’t register the devastating pain wracking his body. Cuchulainn extracted his claw from the fallen Servant and watched him collapse.

Vlad refused to look at himself. He was as good as dead anyway, so what was the point? He only stared up at his enemy, looming tall over him like some jagged tower of doom and death. Cuchulainn swiped his arm to flick off the blood on his claw, then glowered, “That look suits you, Impaler. Certainly fits your legend as a mass slaughterer.”

“I… only did it… to protect… my country… and the… word of God…”

“So you don’t mind killing thousands, yet you don’t want to be remembered as a monster? Give me a break. The world doesn’t work like that. You only have yourself to blame, butchering enemy and ally alike to inspire fear in their hearts.”

“You’re not… much better. I know… what you’ve done… to your… comrades…”

“I know. Yet, I have no regrets about anything I’ve done in my life. There have been some awful things I’ve done, like using Gae Bolg’s full power to take the lives of my best friend and my child, or going on a rampage against Forgall Monach and abducting his daughter Emer… Yeah, I’m quite the horrible bastard, now that I think about it. But does that mean I want to reset everything so I’m remembered as a better person? Not a chance. Unlike you, I’m not going to run away from the history I’ve created for myself.”

“Y-You call this… running… away…?” Vlad gasped.

“Yep. Nothing more, nothing less,” Cuchulainn smirked as he coldly delivered those decisive words. “All of you Denialists are the same – you just want to escape from your infamous pasts and rewrite your lives. But that won’t mean a damn thing if you can’t guarantee that the new history you create will be better for yourselves. Does that mean you’ll go through this whole process again and again until you get an outcome you want? What a sick joke.”

“That’s…”

“Besides, you shouldn’t complain about being remembered in the first place. For every Heroic Spirit out there, how many millions of ordinary people have been lost to time? Hell, just look at Connla. Due to my foolish actions, she wasn’t able to live the full life she deserved, which means she accomplished nothing impressive for society to remember her by. If it hadn’t been for a miracle made in another world, she would never have been recorded in the Throne whatsoever. You should count yourself lucky that you never fell into the depths of obscurity like she did.”

Vlad shuddered. Granted, the idea of later generations depicting him as a monster was soul-crushing to him. But when he thought of the prospect of being completely forgotten, never to walk this Earth again as a Heroic Spirit, it absolutely terrified him. No matter what he did in life or as a Servant, the one thing he always wanted was to be remembered. The _way_ his life was immortalized was unsatisfactory, but it certainly beat being reduced to some footnote in a more famous hero’s story.

He contemplated his actions in this world for a moment, then closed his eyes and whispered, “Very well… I concede…”

Cuchulainn stood there and watched Vlad disappear in a flurry of golden particles. The Romanian prince smiled a little and murmured, “Deep down… I knew I was wrong… Truly, I should never have doubted… God’s plans for me…”

A few seconds later, the man was gone. Cuchulainn was satisfied with confirming his opponent’s death, so he glanced toward Copenhagen Fortress. Although this battle was over, he knew that inside the castle, Connla was fighting with everything she had. He needed to hurry to her side and lend her his strength so that she didn’t have to take on the burden of saving this world alone. Before he could take a step however, he spotted rapid movement in the distance. He recognized the rushing figure as Brynhildr, and he let out a small gasp.

“Cuchulainn!” he heard Sigurd’s voice cry out nearby. The heavily injured Saber hurried to his partner while shouting, “How goes your end of things!?”

“Vlad is dead. What’s going on here?”

“I managed to bring Brynhildr to her senses, but she intends to join Agravain’s side in battle against Connla and Mordred!”

Beneath his cracked helmet, Cuchulainn scowled in both anger and fear. _Riastrad_ took over his mind as he thought about Connla being ganged up on by two Servants. Although he was heavily injured and wearing the heavy black carapace of armor and talons, he somehow managed to dash faster than Sigurd toward Copenhagen.

* * *

Agravain and Mordred were finally in the altar room containing the Holy Grail. Mordred trembled in anger and terror upon seeing the golden cup, overflowing with the mana extracted from perhaps thousands of innocent people. No matter how hard she tried to struggle, she was unable to break free from the Iron Commandments’ grasp, nor could she prevent Agravain from dragging her to this place.

“Behold, dog of Morgan,” he declared. “This is the treasure that which even King Arthur could not find – the Holy Grail.”

“You’re fucking kidding me…” she gasped. “This can’t be real…”

“It is the genuine article. Though I fear such a valuable prize is wasted upon a lowly knight such as myself, I shall nonetheless utilize its omnipotent power to rewrite Camelot’s future. This is the duty I shall uphold for my country.”

“You have no idea what a huge mistake you’re making!”

“Well, I _am_ human. It is only natural for me to make mistakes, unlike that perfect king of ours who was considered infallible and inhuman. Regardless if this is a mistake or not, it is something I must do to avert the tragedies we shall inevitably endure. What better sacrifice is there to offer for the end of the world to occur than the one who brought upon Camelot’s destruction?”

_“Don’t screw with me!”_ Mordred shouted lividly. “I destroyed Father and his world because both he and the entire country had turned their backs upon everyone! The citizens were tired of Father abandoning them all the time to go fight territorial wars instead of giving them the guidance they needed! They wanted someone who would make Britain prosperous on its own instead of annexing other lands through constant battling! I felt that was my role as Camelot’s rightful heir!”

“Yes, your rampage managed to shatter the illusion that both Uther and Arthur cloaked all of Britian within,” Agravain said. “Replicating the Age of Gods when Man wanted to create its own history was an error on their part. The destruction you heralded was necessary for the country to wake up from the dream they and Merlin cast Britain within. But you could only accomplish that through sheer hatred of Arthur after he denied your existence. Do you really want to go through the pain of being snubbed by him again? Worse yet, do you honestly want to be manipulated by Morgan to seize the throne while you admired Arthur from afar?”

Mordred clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to listen to Agravain’s drivel, yet his words forced the bitter memories to haunt her once again. She didn’t get to experience what it was like to have a proper childhood since she was treated as a homunculus born from an illegitimate, incestuous union. She had been bred and rapidly aged to that of a teenager in a dangerously short time, then planted within the Knights of the Round Table to do Morgan’s bidding. Then when she found out she was the beloved king’s ‘son’, she wanted to gain the acknowledgement from Arthur that she never really got from Morgan, only to be turned away by the emotionless monarch.

Did she really want to go through that again…?

For a moment, Mordred was lost in a fit of despair and confusion. Then another thought came to her – the conversation she had with Connla. She had to remember how similar they were; for all of the torture Mordred had gone through, Connla likewise experienced the same thing. She never thought she would find someone whom she could relate to in her life as a Servant, so it was a real surprise to hear what the young Celt’s story was. In addition, Connla did not hold a grudge against anyone for the misfortunes she endured. All she could do was better herself and make sure not to make the same mistakes again.

_Right… I almost forgot about her. Damn, how does she do it? I can’t help but hate everyone around me for how shitty my life was. Maybe I should take a page out of her book for a change and laugh it all off._

Mordred took a deep breath to calm herself, then spread a huge grin across her face and declared, _“I’d do it a thousand times over!”_

Agravain’s lip twitched slightly. He had no idea if she was being courageous or a complete fool in this moment. He figured that trying to tell the difference would be a waste of time. Without another word, he unsheathed his sword and prepared to drive it through the teenager’s mouth, wanting to wipe out the memory of that demented smile. Mordred refused to let her expression change, wanting to die in defiance against his warped ideal.

_SHOOOOOM!_

**_SLAM!_ **

A sonic boom deafened their eardrums for a split second, followed by a mighty gust that swept Agravain clean off his feet. For just a fraction of a moment, Mordred could see that Connla had rocketed through the hallway at top speed and contorted her body so that she would plant her feet against his back. The man’s spine caved in on itself, and he let out a ghastly scream while being thrown violently clear through the thick stone wall. Connla bounced off of Agravain and twisted about for a second to land lithely without losing her balance.

“C… Conn… la…?” Mordred yelped weakly.

The little girl found her comrade and hurried over to her side happily. She threw herself over the knight with a hug and cried out, “Sir Mordred, you’re okay! Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried about you!”

_“O-Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”_

“Ah!? I’m sorry! Does it hurt!?”

“Just give me a minute… That asshole did a number to me…”

Connla removed the chains wrapped all over Mordred to inspect her wounds, then asked, “Did he torture you this whole time?”

“Damn straight,” she groaned. “He tried to make me use my Command Spells to do some bad things, but I wasn’t going to let him have his way.”

“Bad things? Like what?”

“You’re better off not knowing.”

The child Servant was puzzled by what her ally meant, but decided not to question it further. Instead, she clasped her hands and moaned, “I’m sorry for taking so long. I knew that Sir Agravain was going to do this to you, but I was hoping to get here much sooner before you would suffer too much.”

“Don’t sweat it. ‘Sides, it sounds like you’ve had a rough time too.”

“Sort of…”

“What happened?”

Connla shook her head and said, “I’ll have to save that for later, mostly because-“

The girls glanced over at the hole Agravain flew through. The dust settled, revealing the livid black-armored knight glaring at them with murderous intent. Some blood dribbled down his forehead and coated the gaps between his sharp teeth. He commanded the Iron Commandments to return to his hand, then wielded them in one hand and his broadsword in the other, ready to slaughter his two opponents at a moment’s notice.

“-we’re not going to have the time for idle chit-chat.”


	16. Fraternity of Blades and Fate

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 16: Fraternity of Blades and Fate**

Connla and Mordred got to their feet and prepared their weapons to face Agravain. At a time like this, he would have given some kind of spiel threatening them with death if they did not comply with his demands. However, from the furious expression on the man’s bloodied face, it was clear that there would be no speechifying here.

Agravain wasted no time charging in to pummel the two Servants into bloody pulps. He tried to focus on Mordred first since she hadn’t fully recovered yet, but Connla got in the way and swiped her spear against his sword multiple times. He was much stronger than her however, so he easily overpowered her in terms of sheer strength and kicked her cheek, causing her to tumble across the ground. He hurled the morning star-end of the Iron Commandments at her, so she had to roll aside immediately to avoid being crushed by the spiked ball. Connla activated a Ken Rune to engulf her body in winds that carried her around the room. She richocheted off of different walls to confuse Agravain, while he tried to swat her back to ground level with the chain.

“Pesky little gnat!”  he screeched, enraged by how quick the small girl was. “Were you the one who defeated Caster!?”

She shot across the ground, twirled around once, then slashed her blade over his head. He barely managed to block it with his sword. They glared at each other intensely, with Connla’s face showing some slight creases as a result of _riastrad_. They weren’t as prominent as Cuchulainn’s, but they were there.

“You better believe I did,” she retorted with a terrifying tone that didn’t suit a seven-year old child at all.

“Then what about Vlad!? Did a fledgling like you manage to kill him as well!?”

“No. He’s fighting my father as we speak.”

_“Your father!?”_ both Agravain and Mordred exclaimed in unison. The Berserker knight’s rage intensified as he screeched, “Cuchulainn is in this world as well!? Had he been summoned to stop me the same way Sigurd was!?”

“Think whatever you want,” Connla snapped, not willing to explain the specifics to him during a heated battle.

“Impudent brat!” Agravain snarled. Not only did he have to worry about defeating Connla and Mordred here and now, there was also the possibility of Ulster’s greatest hero arriving at an inopportune time for him. Adding Sigurd to the equation served to escalate his fury, putting him in a state of such anger that he only experienced when he found out about Lancelot’s betrayal. The Madness Enhancement he had been given – which changed him from a Saber to a Berserker – flared up within his entire being, and his mind succumbed to animalistic fury. He overcame Connla’s attack and slammed his sword over the ground she stood on like a hammer. She only narrowly jumped back to avoid being crushed, but was shocked by his sudden increase in strength.

_What irony,_ she thought. _Sir Agravain hates Sir Lancelot so much, and yet fighting him is no different than when I fought Sir Lancelot._

She whipped out her slingshot and charged around a dozen stones with Ansuz Runes, then fired them at him all at once. They detonated as small bombs, which threw him back out into the hallway. Through the smoke, he saw that it wasn’t Connla who emerged, but rather a livid Mordred who had recovered enough to join the fray.

_“You’re mine!”_ she screamed, engaging in a furious duel with Agravain. He struggled to keep up with her - even though she was mortally wounded from all of the torture she endured, she was still one of the finest swordsmen in the world. In contrast, his offensive skill wasn’t up to par with hers, but that didn’t mean he was at a total disadvantage. Among all Servants, the Knights of the Round Table were considered the cream of the crop, and Agravain was no exception. It was no exaggeration that he was known as the man who ‘knew no wounds’ since he always returned from battle without a scratch, regardless of the strength of the opponent. This manifested as a unique skill, One of No Wounds, which granted him tremendous defensive strength that could counteract Mordred’s brutal might. Even if her sword hit his skin, the blade merely scraped off and left him uninjured, as if she was striking stone rather than flesh. Such defense could only last a short amount of time though, so Agravain had to be quick in disarming Mordred.

As she whirled around to rush at him again, a sudden excruciating pain shot through her ankle. She collapsed momentarily, giving him the chance to grab her hair and prepare to stab her chest. She grabbed his hands and slung him onto his back, then rolled away to escape from a sword swipe. While Agravain got back to his feet, he glanced toward the altar room and noticed that Connla was busy getting ready to destroy the Holy Grail. During the knights’ scuffle, she had enchanted her spear with destructive Runes, and she jumped over the chalice, intent on slamming her blade through the shining golden cup.

Mere moments before Connla could cleave the Grail into two however, she felt a vice-like grip snatch her ankle. She looked back in shock to see that Agravain had caught up to her and grabbed her foot before she was in range of the chalice. With a beastly snarl, he tossed her toward Mordred – the force was so intense that Connla thought she felt a groin knuckle pop.

**_“WHOOOAH!?”_** the Lancer shrieked in surprise, colliding with Mordred at almost 60 km/h. The duo tumbled back into the hallway together, coming to a stop as pathetic heaps.

“Damn crazy bastard…” the Saber growled, then asked her ally, “You okay?”

“I’m fine. My leg feels kind of funny, but I’ll manage.”

Agravain sauntered toward the girls and growled, “That was much too close. I can’t risk having my dream being destroyed by a couple of petulant children.”

“What exactly _is_ your dream anyway?” Connla wondered. “If you’re a Denialist, does that mean you want to rewrite your history as well?”

“Naturally. I will eliminate the locusts that swarmed upon the kingdom I worked so hard to preserve, and give Camelot the chance to flourish as the envy of the world that it deserves to be.”

“Locusts? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Think about it. They’re the type of pandemic that usurp rulers and heroes for their own benefit, then discard the leftovers once their hunger is sated. I too was a victim of such a contagion, being warped into a bastard who carried the burden of Camelot’s hatred, only to be killed by a traitor who was contaminated by the same disease. Not only that, but the Battle of Camlann was instigated by yet another locust, and I was unable to do anything about it.”

“…”

“It looks like you understand what I’m talking about. Indeed, those pests that destroyed Camelot… _are women._ ”

Mordred didn’t appear surprised to hear such an admission, but Connla’s mouth thinned into an imperceptible line as she kept her surprise under control.

“Do you have any idea what it is like to bear a maniacal vixen’s grudge? Do you understand how difficult it is to exist only to be a woman’s tool for her own destructive desires?” Agravain rambled. “Not only was it just some ordinary bitch - it was my own _mother_ who always said such things to me. That disgusting witch wanted me to rule over Britain, all so she could make Britain hers to control by me being her puppet ruler. Becoming part of the Round Table was the best course of action for me, even if I despised the idea of being surrounded by outdated, self-important fools who went _on and on **and on**_ about dead notions like chivalry and loyalty without actually serving the people!

“I buried that disgust deep within myself. Even if I couldn’t stand the people around me, I still loved Britain. I wanted it to thrive under the rule of a great king. I didn’t care who it was. So long as it was someone who extended Britain’s life, I was fine with it. To that end, Arthur was easier to use than Morgan. I poured all of my heart and soul into serving Arthur, even if it meant being the target of everyone’s suspicions and hatred. But… it was not meant to be…”

His eyes shrunk into tiny dots, and he bared his sharpened teeth at the two knights.

“ _It was women who ruined all of my plans!_ Morgan may have been ugly to the core, but it was also Guinevere who brought upon Camelot’s destruction! That goddamn whore slept with a traitor! A woman who was supposed to be the epitome of virtue and chastity sacrificed Britain for a fleeting moment of passion! That bitch’s idea of love destroyed everything! _Serves her right to be executed for betraying the country I worked so hard to preserve!_ ”

“No… that was…” Connla tried to refute, but didn’t have the will to speak any further. She knew the real reason for Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair. As much as she wanted to explain everything, she had a feeling Agravain was not willing to listen, so she decided to keep her mouth shut to avoid upsetting him any further.

“Neither of you will understand the king’s pain,” he declared. “That’s why… If Camelot was doomed to be destroyed by women like Morgan, Guinevere, and that foul abomination Mordred, _then what better course of action for me to take than to ensure that Camelot never actually exists in the first place!_ ”

Connla’s heart momentarily beat out of rhythm after hearing this. She whispered, “So that’s what you’re after…”

“Indeed. Ragnarok will swallow everything whole in chaos and destruction, exterminating the pandemic that ruined Camelot and allowing for a brand new history to be formed. The nightmares we have lived through will be thoroughly erased, and I will have allowed a different future to come into fruition. _That_ is my objective.”

“Geez,” Mordred scoffed bitterly. “I already thought you were a blemish within Father’s ranks, but I tolerated you for his sake. I never would’ve imagined that you’d be so completely out of your mind that you’d destroy Camelot’s earliest foundations in order to prevent the tragedies surrounding us. No, that’s putting it way too lightly…”

She scowled and snarled, “ ** _You’re fucking insane!_** ”

Agravain chuckled slightly, then sardonically grinned and asked, “What makes you say that, killer dog?”

“Don’t you get it!? Ragnarok won’t just destroy Camelot’s foundations! It’ll bring ruin to _every other kingdom out there!_ _Everyone_ will be affected, not just Britain! Think about it! Germany, Russia, Rome, Ireland, Spain, France, Scandinavia – so many histories will be changed! All because you wanted to protect one little corner of the world from its inevitable fate!? **_Ridiculous! Just completely and utterly RIDICULOUS!_** ”

“No, it’s perfectly sensible.”

“Wha-!?”

“I already know of the contradiction in my plan, and have accepted it. It’s not just us who suffered. How many other nations’ heroes have tales of tragedy and sorrow? The easiest answer is that all of them do. I’ll gladly erase all of them so that their lives can also have different outcomes.”

Mordred was completely at a loss for words. She thought her rebuttal would make Agravain see how wrong he was, but he instead embraced the error of his ways. She felt like she was no longer conversing with a human being. Connla leaned in and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

“I don’t know. No, what I meant to say was… Well… How do I explain this?”

“What is it?” Agravain asked. “Which one of us do you agree with? A rabid dog who lavishes in destroying everything to have their petty anger acknowledged? Or a martyr who will undo centuries’ worth of human suffering without benefit to himself?”

“… Well, you keep saying that you’ll create a ‘different’ future for all of Europe… I’ve been listening to you as best as I can, and I really want to see the merit in your plan. But there’s one thing I haven’t heard from any of you Denialists yet.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t said anything about this alternate future actually being a ‘better’ one. Is it because you don’t want to say it, or that you can’t?”

He narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the child Lancer for a moment. She caught on to the biggest flaw of his grand scheme, and it made him feel a tension he hadn’t felt in years. He let out a resigned sigh, then said, “I admit that I have no control over what will happen once the destruction concludes. All that matters is that the history we are familiar with no longer has the possibility of happening.”

“So you’d be satisfied if the outcome was actually worse?”

“All I want is a ‘different’ history. Whether it’s ‘better’ or ‘worse’ is up to future generations.”

“I see…” Connla closed her eyes. “Then I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Sir Mordred. I won’t call you insane, but you have to remember that history is supposed to be immalleable. It should be accepted for what it is, rather than fixed into something of your liking.”

“So both of you are my enemies,” Agravain declared. “Both of you may be women, but you’re also inexperienced in the ways of the world. If you want to continue your foolish pursuit of preserving this rotten history, _then strike me down with everything you’ve got!_ ”

“Pah! There’s no way I would refuse a challenge from you after hearing all of that nonsense!” Mordred grinned, brandishing Clarent while her helmet formed itself around her head. “Let’s put him down once and for all, Connla!”

The child Servant readied her spear and got into her combat stance. She had made her point, and now had to prove her conviction through battle. Mordred rushed in first to duel Agravain, but he pushed her aside and dodged just as Connla dove in with her spear. She twirled her spear and danced about in numerous attempts to slash him, but he either dodged or withstood her blows with One of No Wounds. Since she was physically the weakest of the three, she simply didn’t have a chance of penetrating his defenses.

Connla couldn’t avoid Agravain as he instantly clamped his hand around her entire face, and he easily lifted the small girl off her feet. She tried kicking his arm several times, but he didn’t budge whatsoever. Mordred howled and tackled his waist, forcing him to drop Connla. She landed painfully on her butt, then looked up to see that Agravain had Mordred in a vicious-looking chokehold. Mordred’s face was starting to turn pale from lack of oxygen, so Connla got up and shot a small fireball at Agravain’s eyes. It detonated and singed a small portion of his hair and mantle. He growled as he released Mordred and jumped back, startled by the unexpected pain searing his cheeks.

“ ** _That’s it!_** I’ve had enough of playing around with you two! If I can’t sacrifice either of you, then I shall offer _myself_ to the Grail!” Agravain shouted, raising his hand with the Iron Commandments triumphantly. “No matter what it takes, I **_will_ **awaken the Jotnar and bring ruin to these lands!”

Mordred couldn’t believe what she was hearing. _“Oh, you fucking-!”_

“We’ve got to get him away from there!” Connla shouted desperately as she watched him stumble toward the Holy Grail, intent on committing suicide. The Saber scrambled to her feet and rushed to meet her half-brother in combat once more. The young Lancer’s heart raced, unsure of what to do next. All she could do was improvise a plan of taking the Grail away from the altar while Mordred kept Agravain occupied. She ran past the pair as they were fighting and grabbed the sacred cup, then hurried through the hole that she caused Agravain to crash through earlier, hoping to find some safe place she could hide out in before he could catch up to her.

“Tch!” he snorted, then whipped his chain at Mordred to ensnare her. He then hurled and slammed her multiple times against the floor and walls like a child being too boisterous with a pillow. Small crevices were created from the force of the blows, stunning her each time she struck stone. Finally, he whipped her all the way across the hall, leaving her to smash against the wall and collapse into unconsciousness. Satisfied that he eliminated Mordred, Agravain went after Connla to retrieve the Holy Grail.

* * *

The young Lancer’s breathing was frantic and turbulent as she scurried through the maze-like stronghold, unsure of where she was really going. She wanted to find a way back outside so she could retreat into the forest and rejoin Sigurd and Cuchulainn with the Grail in hand. She could have used the chalice’s power herself, but she also remembered one of Chaldea’s most fundamental rules; if a Grail could be retrieved, then it needed to be left intact so that it could be researched further. Besides, she didn’t want to waste the lives of so many people that had been sacrificed to it just for her own benefit either.

While Connla was lost in such thoughts, the wall suddenly exploded into debris fragments that pummeled her like miniature punches.

“Ungh!” she squealed and smacked against the opposite door, collapsing into someone’s living quarters. She got to her knees and embraced the Grail tightly, then looked up to see the livid Agravain standing within the new hole he made with the morning star. Sweat ran down the child’s face as she desperately thought of a way out of this situation. She shifted her eyes to the window, then back to him.

“I don’t think so!” he bellowed, catching on to her plan.

The instant he reached out for her, she hopped backwards and crashed through the glass, falling several stories to the ground below. She believed she had a chance of escaping the fortress with the Grail, and her heart pounded with excitement. That hope was soon dashed when she felt the Iron Commandments coil around her waist and pull her back up to the floor she fell from.

“YAAAAH!?” she screamed as she was flung high above the balcony. Her heart pounded with terror from the unexpected flight, but she regained her senses and flipped upside-down to look at him. He was standing in position to raise his sword high. Connla gasped as she realized she was going to be impaled directly upon the blade. Agravain smirked, believing he was finally going to be rid of the child Servant.

She wasn’t going to give him that chance; albeit clumsily, she summoned some Runes beneath her feet that acted as invisible platforms that she could use to change her course. He became astonished as he watched her vault toward the wall, then hop backwards off it to perform a deft back flip. She landed in front of him, then used the momentum to jump up and deliver a roundhouse kick to Agravain’s cheek, knocking him off the balcony and causing him to fall upon the snow. While plummeting however, he used his chain to seize her ankle, making her lose her footing and descend to the ground close by. She just managed to scrape her heel upon the wall and jump off so she could land a safe distance, since she kept the Holy Grail secured beneath her arm this whole time.

Unfortunately, Connla still had the chain bound to her leg – a fact which Agravain was happy to take advantage of. He pulled her toward him with all his might, flinging her clean off her feet. She was caught upside-down and coming dangerously close to being stabbed through once again. Without any thought, she twisted her torso around so that she could swing her spear at his neck, hoping to slice his carotid before he could skewer her. He noticed her erratic movements however and opted to block the near-death strike instead. Sparks scattered right in front of his face, stunning him momentarily.

_This isn’t right… How in the world is this whelp fighting on par with a Knight of the Round Table such as myself?_

Agravain just couldn’t figure out where Connla got her talent from. Was it inherent because she was Cuchulainn’s offspring? Or was it through some kind of rigorous training regime? He glared at her as she regained her footing, unsure of what to do next. He could try to capture her again, but her impromptu shenanigans were becoming irksome for him to deal with. Without warning, Connla heaved her spear at his left arm, catching him unaware as the polearm pierced the upper limb so badly that it was nearly torn off. With no feeling left in his hand, he couldn’t hold on to the Iron Commandments anymore, so Connla was able to free her ankle from the chain. Agravain cursed loudly and ripped the remainder of the arm off before tossing it away. His teeth seemed to sharpen in response to his incredible anger, and he roared as he blindly rushed at her, flailing his sword about.

She gasped and desperately vaulted about, but it was difficult for her to judge what he was going to do next now that he was in the throes of a real Berserker rage. Without her spear in hand, she couldn’t block his strikes, plus she still needed to protect the Holy Grail tucked within her arms. He managed to get in a few good cuts to her upper back, legs, shoulder, and cheek. Connla yelped as she stumbled back on an unexpected rock hidden in the snow, unable to defend herself from an impending horizontal strike to her throat. She thoughtlessly dropped the Grail as she landed on her side, solely focused on the gleaming sword that was about to kill her.

**_“DIII~IIIE!”_** he shrieked.

A sudden, deafening clap of reddish lightning blinded the area between them, incinerating the ground and throwing them back. Connla discovered that Mordred had rejoined the battle and was dueling the one-armed Agravain in a furious contest of blades and strength. Both of them roared with the ferocity of lions, and Connla practically forgot about the Grail lying near her as she observed the deadly battle. Their swords clashed and clanged about repeatedly, and their bodies contorted in inhuman ways to avoid each other’s deadliest attacks. Eventually, Mordred pushed Agravain away and leapt back to stand near her partner.

“Let’s finish this!” Mordred shouted emphatically and raised her hand with the Command Spells on it, alarming Agravain. She expended the second charge, and both girls felt a surge of energy coursing through their veins. It didn’t heal their extensive injuries, but it was the pep they absolutely needed in order to finish this battle. Lightning crackled around the grinning Mordred’s body, while Connla’s hair and clothes billowed in a gentle flurry of snowy wind.

Feeling more energized than ever, the Lancer vanished in a green twister, only reappearing at brief points around Agravain. He wasn’t sure what she was playing it, but it was impossible for him to perceive her as anything other than a viridian streak of light. That was when he noticed several Ken Runes shining beneath his feet, which she had planted during her near-invisible rush. She landed, made some hand gestures, then thrust her palms forth and let out a bellowing, **_“HAAAH!”_**

A tremendous tornado exploded beneath him, hurtling him hundreds of meters into the air along with a torrent of snow. Mordred gathered all of her strength into her legs and jumped after the stunned Berserker. She made Clarent collect energy into its blade, but this time she didn’t release it as a beam of destructive power. Instead, she swung the energized sword about furiously, carving countless deep gashes into Agravain’s skin. His dark armor and innate defensive skills weren’t factors whatsoever in protecting him from the vicious onslaught. Each time Mordred struck him, violet-and-crimson bolts of electricity shot from Clarent, turning the frigid sky into a storm of vibrant colors around them. Connla watched slack-jawed at the spectacle as her comrade screamed the name of her Noble Phantasm:

**_“CLARENT BLOOD ARTHUUUUU~UUUUUR!”_ **

Agravain’s eyes were wide with shock. Repressed memories flooded back into his mind – the mad dervish of sword strikes he felt rip through his body was the same as when he was murdered by Lancelot back when he was alive. Agravain had made the mistake of insulting Guinevere for her betrayal against Arthur, which enraged Lancelot and made him kill his allies in a fit of passionate anger. He didn’t feel the moment when he slammed his back against the citadel wall and slumped into a pathetic sitting position. Mordred landed in front of the silent Connla and gasped fervently.

“Ugh… I… don’t… believe this…” Agravain yelped pitifully.

“Hah… hah… hah… It’s over…” Mordred declared between each labored breath. She clenched her teeth and stood tall over the defeated man, then said, “I’ve had enough… of your self-centered bullshit…”

“Self… centered…? Don’t be stupid. It is… my form… of justice…”

“Fuck that. It’s nothing… but vindication. A weak bastard like you… doesn’t even deserve… to look at the Holy Grail,” she muttered, then looked back at Connla and smirked. “Right?”

“Huh? What do you mean ‘ right’?” the child Lancer wondered.

“Isn’t it obvious? This is your chance. Tell him everything that _you_ went through in your life.”

“What!? How does my past have anything to do with this?”

“It’s what will snap him out of his delusions. You know you want to share in his pain – I could see it in your eyes this entire time. Go and talk to him while he’s disarmed.”

“But I…” Connla whimpered. “I… don’t think I can…”

“Why not!?”

“Because… I think this is his time for someone to listen to him. For me to say something would just be an insult to him…”

“Huh!? You’re really lending an ear to that nutjob’s whining!? Ridiculous! There’s no better time than now for you to put him back in his place!”

“Uh…”

Mordred bit her lip and raged, “Ugh, fine! If you won’t do it, then I will!”

“W-Wait-!”

“Listen up, Agravain!” the teenaged knight shouted. “You’ve got one hell of an ego if you think you’re the only one in all of human history who has been abused by their mother! Just take a look at Connla here! Her father told me everything she went through at Aife’s hands, and _this_ is proof of it!”

She snatched the girl’s arm and rolled up the sleeve to show Agravain the dozens of small scars left behind by whipping, cutting, burning, and overworking that had healed poorly, no doubt due to Aife denying Connla proper medical treatment. Agravain was caught stupefied by such a horrible sight, and he was unable to say anything in retort for a few short moments. If there were so many injuries just on Connla’s arm, he didn’t want to imagine what the rest of her body looked like.

Mordred released her grip on Connla and shouted at him, _“Don’t you get it!? **THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO SUFFER EVEN WORSE THAN YOU!”**_

Agravain clenched his teeth, astonished that Mordred would dismiss his lifetime of suffering as inferior (if not, equal) to someone else’s. However, he couldn’t deny the evidence that she forced him to gaze upon. He turned his attention to Connla and demanded in a deep voice, “Is this true? Does that killing machine speak the truth?”

Connla nervously looked away from him for a few seconds. She really believed neither of them had any business dragging her past into this battle, but what’s done was done. After a tense moment, she murmured weakly, “It’s… true.”

Agravain momentarily ceased thinking. He never considered the possibility that a mother could subject even greater torture upon their child than what Morgan did to him. That was when the questions really dawned on him – things that didn’t make sense to him before quickly began to fall into place. Why was Connla such an amazing fighter and tactician at such an improbably young age? How could she be equal to other Knights of the Round Table when a child like her should be training under such knights? How did she have such a high pain threshold? Why were there enough scars on a seven-year old’s body to rival a seasoned fighter’s battle wounds?

It was all her mother’s fault.

Agravain didn’t really know Connla’s history in detail, but he understood what her mother’s motive was. No one would be treated so horribly unless they were being bred into a tool of vengeance. Just as Morgan Le Fay molded him through torture and manipulation into being King Arthur’s assassin, Aife likewise did the same to Connla so she could kill Cuchulainn. Both women lived to deliver their enmity upon the ones they believed wronged them, and their children were convenient tools for that twisted goal.

The very thought made him want to vomit everything – blood, stomach contents, even his guts – all over the perfect white snow. He resisted the urge and unleashed his rage with a terrifying shout:

_“ **HOW!?** How are you not on the same side as me!? If you understand my pain, why do you stand against me!?”_

Connla was devastated from causing Agravain to fall into further insanity. His question was a rather surprising one though. She believed that she owed him a clear, concise answer about how their beliefs differed. There really was only one thing she could say to him, and she blurted it out with a stone-cold expression…

“Because your plan sucks.”

He stared at her, unable to comprehend what she just said. Curtly, firmly, and unabashedly, she dismissed his grand scheme as something utterly banal – a terrible joke not even worth smiling at. All he could do was seethe, “It… _what_?”

“You don’t care about this world’s history whatsoever. This whole thing is just an excuse for you to run away from your fate of being Morgan’s son. Instead of confronting her about the pain she caused you, you seek to escape her influence altogether, even if that means destroying millions upon millions of other people’s futures in the process. Is challenging Morgan herself not enough for you? Do you want to spite everyone else simply to justify your suffering?”

“I…”

“Well that’s where we’re different, Sir Agravain,” Connla stood her polearm upon the ground like a true knight would. “I got to ask my mother those hard questions, and she told me the honest truth – she never loved me, and only used me as a vector to punish Cuchulainn for him sullying her honor.

“It was incredibly difficult to accept. Many times, I wanted to just break down and shut everyone out, afraid that I would hurt someone if I lashed out at them. But I soon realized that I was surrounded by so many people who wanted to take care of me the way my mother should have. It wasn’t because they sought a reward or wanted to stroke their own egos either;  we’re simply a community with a common goal.

“That’s what you’ve been missing this whole time. You need to see a world where Servants can come together to fight a common enemy. It wouldn’t be like when you were alive in Camelot, bringing the other Knights of the Round Table together in their shared disgust of you, all while you worked yourself to death to maintain an illusion that was destined to be destroyed anyway. That’s not fair to you. You need to experience the feeling of being valued and trusted, while doing your utmost to contribute to a cause that is just and good.

“That’s what Chaldea is. That is the policy that Sir Mordred and I’s Master has instilled upon us, yet she does not enforce it with Command Spells or threats like many Masters would.  Perhaps if the summoning system FATE would allow it, Master would be able to summon you to Chaldea and put you to work as an efficient strategist and secretary like Ms. Da Vinci is. Such capable Servants are difficult to come by, and I’m sure you would be a wonderful asset to Chaldea in that regard should you ever appear.”

“Me? Surely you jest…” Agravain snorted derisively. “Well, I can see where you’re coming from though. Maybe that’s what I’ve been looking for this whole time – just to be accepted. No one but King Arthur acknowledged me back when I was alive, so that was why I revered him so much.”

“I was searching for the same thing, and I managed to find it. There are still plenty of opportunities for you, but you first need to break free of your mother’s control like how I did. If not in Chaldea, then maybe in some other world, you’ll be able to face Morgan and let her know what you think of her. I think the first step you need to take is to destroy that shadow of her that is still manipulating you, and then you can go from there.”

“Hmph. Even from beyond the grave, that witch is still influencing me, huh? What a terrifying woman.”

“I know what you mean,” Connla shuddered. Even though she had made such a moving speech to Agravain, she couldn’t deny how Aife’s presence continued to loom over her despite putting that chapter of her life behind her.

“If I somehow remember any of this in my next summons, I’ll be sure to reflect upon what you’ve said, Son of Cuchulainn,” Agravain moaned, then closed his eyes. His body shone gold, then he gradually vanished into the arctic wind.


	17. Aisling

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 17: Aisling**

Mordred and Connla remained rooted to their spots, silently observing Agravain as he finally disappeared. They certainly wanted to verify his death, but at the same time, they want to be by his side as fellow Servants who lived in the shadow of abusive women just like he did.

“It’s over…” Connla whispered forlornly.

“Yeah,” Mordred muttered. She dematerialized her full armor and put Clarent away. “His ambitions have been put to rest. But that doesn’t mean our work is done just yet.”

“I know. We should finish what we came here for in the first place – establishing the summoning circle and alerting Chaldea of our whereabouts.”

The Lancer found a decent clearing for her to create the large glyph, then spread her arms forth and concentrated while the Saber watched. A pattern resembling a Celtic knot interlaced with a three-leaf shamrock glowed a vibrant mint green upon the snow. This was the symbol a Master would have as their Command Spell should they ever possess Connla as their lone Servant. With one last blinding glow, the summoning circle was successfully created.

“Now to see if we can reach Ms. Da Vinci,” the girl murmured and took out the large Saint Quartz to try and communicate with the inventor.

Suddenly, and with a heart jolting cry, Mordred screamed, **_“LOOK OUT!”_**

“Whuh-?”

The knight tackled her partner to the ground an instant before some kind of huge explosion rocked the area. Connla was utterly confused about what was happening, so she looked over Mordred’s shoulder to see what was going on. To her shock, she discovered a long trail of carved earth that had been created when a familiar white-haired lady struck the spot where the girls had been. Steam rose out of the crevice as the woman kneeled for a moment, then stood back up to face them.

“Lady Brynhildr!?” the child Servant yelped.

“Of all the-!” Mordred snapped and brandished Clarent again. “What the hell are you doing here, bitch!?”

“I… I have to… Master’s orders… obey them…” the Rider spouted incoherently. “I love… Sigurd… I hate… Sigurd… I must obey… my beloved Master… I don’t… understand… my heart is… burning… burning…”

Connla widened her eyes and said, “Something’s wrong. It’s like her mind is completely destroyed.”

“All the better for us to finish her off for good!” Mordred raged, then charged at the confused woman. However, in Brynhildr’s eyes, she didn’t perceive the knight for who she actually was. Instead, a hallucination of Sigurd screaming his battle cry flashed in her vision. She looked over at the astonished Connla and likewise saw her as a strangely short-statured child version of Sigurd.

**_“S-Stay away!”_** Brynhildr panicked desperately and swung her spear at Mordred’s midsection. She tried to block it, but the force behind the strike was so amazing that it knocked her clean off her feet and sent her sailing 100 meters away. Connla gasped in fear as the delusional lady turned her attention toward her.

“Sigurd…! I know you love me…! Really, truly… I am so honored…” she rambled, taking unsteady steps toward the girl. “To think I have killed you… And seek to kill you… again and again. I just want this pain… to stop. Put your arms around me… as you die to my spear. Please… make this hurt go away…”

“Calm down, Lady Brynhildr!” Connla exclaimed. “There’s no need for us to fight anymore! All of the other Denialists have been defeated, and it won’t be long before the Valkyries and their army overcome your forces! Please, put down your weapon and surrender peacefully!”

“I am… not finished… serving my beloved Master. I must kill… and kill… and kill… because that is… what they want. I live… only to kill…”

The young Lancer grew nervous as she wielded her spear and prepared to engage in combat, hopefully for the last time. However, she barely moved a muscle when a surprise flurry struck Brynhildr and forced her to jump back. Connla covered her face so it wouldn’t be covered with snow, then glanced over to discover that Sigurd – the real one – had unleashed a powerful wave beam from his sword to strike the Rider away from her.

**_“Brynhildr!”_** he raged and rushed in to meet her in combat. Even though he had been left behind such a great distance, he had cast several Runes that generated a wind funnel around himself so he could fly straight to the scene. He didn’t even spare any regard for Connla and Mordred as he charged at Brynhildr and flailed Gram about wildly at her. His normally rational and cool composure seemed to disappear in a frenzy of desperation and fury as he struck her spear over and over again.

“Sigurd…? Is that you, Sigurd…?” the warrior maiden yelped while blocking his blows.

_“Enough is enough!”_ the livid Saber shouted. “If you can’t understand the futility of this battle, then I have no choice but to bring a swift end to you!”

“Ah…! Ah…!” she gasped and leapt away from a powerful swing of Gram that could easily fell dragons. At least 10 trees were sliced through, and they all crashed to the ground simultaneously as Sigurd mercilessly pursued Brynhildr. More trees and branches crashed everywhere as they raced about all over the forest in no discernible pattern. Connla observed the mayhem with slack-jawed amazement, unsure of who was actually winning the battle. Mordred weakly got to her knees and likewise watched what was going on.

Soon, a frantic Brynhildr emerged from the ravaged forest and caught sight of the girls again. She leapt high and energized her lance for one last attempt at her Noble Phantasm, hoping to at least kill the two Servants before Sigurd destroyed her. She still mistook them for Sigurd though, so she really had no idea who she was aiming at. That didn’t seem to matter to her though as she tilted forward and directed her blade for the fallen Mordred.

**_“Brynhildr Romantia!”_ **

Sigurd tried to chase after her, but she was rocketing toward the knight much too fast for him to intercept. All he could do was shriek at the top of his lungs, **_“STOP III~III~IIIT!”_**

Mordred was so weakened that she could only stare at the purple-bladed spear that was going to end her life. Before she knew it, she was suddenly rolling across the ground thanks to some unseen force knocking her aside moments before the brilliant explosion of blues, violets and whites engulfed the area. She looked over just in time to see what was going on – Connla had darted over and tackled Mordred to protect her from the Noble Phantasm, but in doing so was caught in the deadly attack herself. The little girl immediately lost consciousness and shot toward the citadel, then viciously crashed through several thick stone walls. Chalky smoke billowed everywhere from the aftermath of such a deadly blow, and there were tiny spots of blood left behind on the crevices.

* * *

Back in Chaldea, Gilgamesh had his eyes closed and his arms confidently folded as he continuously concentrated on utilizing his god-like Clairvoyance to scry the entire dimensional continuum for Mordred and Connla. He was growing increasingly frustrated with using his divine powers to search for insignificant Servants, but he wasn’t going to forget his promise to the woman he met in the Kaleidoscope. If Connla wasn’t around for him to observe, then he would never be able to claim the lady as his personal property.

That was when his vision finally became a lot clearer the moment Connla created the summoning circle, and he caught a glimpse of the two girls being ambushed by Brynhildr. He bolted his eyes open in surprise and declared loudly, _“I’ve got them!”_

Everyone gasped in simultaneous relief and astonishment. Mash exclaimed happily, “Yes! We knew you could do it, Your Majesty!”

He raised his arm and directed his palm at SHEBA as he commanded the operators, “Search Copenhagen, Denmark in 445 AD, during the height of Odin’s rule in Scandinavia! Those whelps are in the midst of resolving a Singularity!”

“Roger!” several workers replied and inputted the Archer’s directions into SHEBA’s network. Shortly thereafter, the system’s light shone aqua-green to indicate its success.

“Looks like they only just managed to establish the connection for us,” Da Vinci said. “Ritsuka, prepare for immediate deployment and rescue measures.”

“On it! Everyone, come with me!” she commanded a team of Servants she assembled, and they all disappeared into their spirit forms until they were needed. She faced Gilgamesh and said, “Thank you so much for your assistance, my liege!”

“Hurry it up, mongrel! I’m not wasting my time searching for those Servants just so you can stand around like an idiot!” the king barked disparagingly.

“R-Right!” the young Magus yelped and got into a Spiritron Coffin along with Mash.

Ozymandias approached Gilgamesh and said, “Looks like this victory is yours, King of Heroes. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and let you claim all of the glory. If there is indeed a Singularity, then it shall be eradicated by my blessings of the Sun. The enemy shall know and come to fear the name Ozymandias!”

“Do what you will,” the Sumerian king muttered tersely. “I am exhausted from expending my energy toward such a frivolous mission. Make sure you bring those stranded fools back to me so that I can remind them who it was that truly saved their inferior lives.”

Ozymandias smirked, then vanished like the others.

* * *

Mordred’s expression contorted into absolute horror. She clenched her teeth and widened her eyes. Her skin creased about everywhere, and she swore she felt tears gushing out of her eyes. Her entire body shook with fury and terror.

_You… IDIOT…!_

She couldn’t bring herself to say such words to Connla after saving her from the devastating Noble Phantasm at the risk of her own life. She didn’t want to imagine how brutal the attack must have been for such a small child, regardless if she was a Servant. Brynhildr landed nearby and stumbled about pathetically, feeling exhausted from using her strongest attack on the youthful Sigurd rather than the teenaged Sigurd lying in the snow.

“GODDAMN YOU!” Mordred screamed and slashed at the Rider multiple times. Even though both women were completely drained of energy, raw adrenaline was the only factor keeping them going as they battled each other in a crazed dervish of violence and pandemonium. Mordred’s final Command Spell charge was subconsciously expended to give herself a significant boost of strength, and the sigil fully disappeared from her hand. The indignant knight continued to wail, “I’LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS! I’LL SEND YOU TO HELL IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO, YOU FUCKING TRAMP!”

The knight was so enraged that saliva dribbled out of her wide open mouth, making her resemble a rabid killer canine. Both of their weapons carved deep etches into the trees, ground, and fortress walls everywhere, practically destroying everything their blades even so much as grazed. At the same time, Sigurd returned to the scene after having witnessed Connla’s fall. He felt so responsible for allowing this to happen that he too succumbed to guilt-ridden rage and joined Mordred in the attack against Brynhildr.

It was then that Brynhildr realized she stood no chance of surviving against the two Sabers. Their concern for their young friend caused them to go berserk the same way she did when she assumed Sigurd had betrayed her back when they were alive.

_Master… Forgive me. I cannot complete my mission for you…_

Then she felt the silent voice reverberate in her mind once again:

_“GrAB thE HOly grAIl… ClaiM itS pOWEr as YOUR oWn…”_

Brynhildr felt honored that her unknown Master was not scolding her for her failure. They would even go out of their way to help her in her greatest time of need. Thanks to their suggestion, she realized there was only one thing she could do to survive – evade Sigurd and Mordred as best as she could and reach out for the Holy Grail still lying in the snow. Though the mana it contained would not be enough to initiate Ragnarok anymore, she could still use it to power herself up and bring death to her Master’s enemies.

* * *

It hurt.

Every fiber of Connla’s body ached in sheer pain.

As she slowly opened her eyes, the agony struck her like a sledgehammer slamming over her head. She was lying face-down upon a chest containing various armaments, meaning she had collided right into an armory. She tried to move her legs, but the stinging sensation only made things worse. She managed to look at one of her knees and realized that it was twisted the wrong way. The same could be said for her arm, and she had such difficulty breathing that she thought she had cracked a rib or two.

_What the…? Why am I like this?_

The grisly scene didn’t register in her mind immediately. She was more concerned with why she was lying atop a pile of weapons and rubble fragments like a discarded rag doll, bleeding out of numerous cuts and friction burns that had opened up. She couldn’t recall doing anything that would cause herself to wind up in this state. She thought back to what she was doing before blacking out.

_I was establishing the summoning circle… and then… Lady Brynhildr attacked us…_

Connla couldn’t figure it out. Both her mind and body were so destroyed that she couldn’t think straight. She just wanted to fall back asleep so that the pain would go away. Yet she knew that she and her comrades were in the middle of a fierce battle to save this world from the Singularity, so she struggled to stay awake and see what she could do to help. Unfortunately, her bones were so broken that she was in no condition to move, never mind fight.

_Where’s Sir Mordred? Is she okay?_

She darted her eyes around. At first she couldn’t see anyone. There was nothing to see except darkness, with light only shining through the hole that her rocketing body had caused. Soon though, she caught sight of an absolutely livid Mordred and Sigurd fighting the crazed Brynhildr in the distance. All of them were leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, but at least the battle was far away enough that Connla would not be caught in the crossfire.

“Uh…” the child moaned and attempted to move again, but it was futile. She wanted to at least see if the summoning circle was complete, but she couldn’t make it out from her position. Reluctant as she was, she had to give up and lie there to conserve her energy.

* * *

Cuchulainn was in utter disbelief.

As he was approaching the tumultuous battle site, he witnessed Brynhildr heinously attacking Connla with her Noble Phantasm, and cursed himself repeatedly for not being there to prevent it. More than his self-loathing however was his unadulterated fury at the warrior maiden – he was probably angry enough to tear the Earth itself into two. He was so upset with both Brynhildr’s assault and his own failure that he momentarily lost the ability to think, allowing his body to do whatever it pleased.

During this time, Brynhildr’s wild spear thrusts had forced Sigurd and Mordred to collapse to the ground. The Scandinavian Saber used a series of Runes to shield both of them from a mighty hammer-like blow that created a large crater beneath them. Sigurd’s skin burst with small sores as he fought to maintain the cracking barrier, then overcame her ridiculous strength and used the shield like a battering ram to push her back. Unfortunately, this caused her to fly closer to the sacred chalice than they would have liked.

“Fuck-!” Mordred yelped, but was unable to move.

As Brynhildr twisted her body and reached her hand out for the Grail, Cuchulainn roared and viciously impaled his huge claws into the woman’s torso without a care as to how much damage he was causing. Mordred shuffled back and gazed in astonishment at the carnage unfolding before her. Blood streaks painted the walls and snow everywhere, with some fluid even spattering the knight’s face.

_Holy shit… So this is what Connla’s father is like when he’s mad…_

Brynhildr couldn’t even scream as she felt the razor-sharp talons tear through her pale flesh, transforming her from a lovely woman to a sickening heap of barely-attached body parts. Sigurd gasped at what Cuchulainn was doing to his beloved and cried out in shock, _“Stop it!”_

**_“SHUT UP! THIS GODDAMN BITCH NEARLY KILLED MY CHILD!”_** Cuchulainn shrieked. His howl sounded beastly, and the other two Servants realized that interfering with this man-turned-monster would only get them slaughtered. Sigurd could do nothing but squeeze his eyes shut and wait for the chaos to be over.

Once Cuchulainn was satisfied with butchering Brynhildr, he stuck his talons into her chest one last time and raised her off the ground. He forced her to stare at his bloodshot eyes peeking through the cracked helmet as he raged, **_“TELL ME RIGHT NOW, YOU WORTHLESS HARLOT! WHO ORDERED YOU TO ASSASSINATE MY DAUGHTER!? WHO IS IT THAT WANTS HER DEAD!?”_**

“Ah…”

Brynhildr was at a loss for words. Her mind finally cleared up, and she could perceive the Servants for who they actually were instead of them all being various Sigurds. At first, she didn’t want to die before fulfilling her duty to her Master. However, as she gazed upon Cuchulainn’s demonic eyes, she realized that she well and truly deserved this. He loved Connla so much that he would become a creature out of Hell for her sake, as he claimed to Vlad. Regardless if Brynhildr was the target of such indescribable wrath, she found such a quality wonderful and admirable. It reminded her of how much she loved Sigurd so much that she was willing to kill him over his ‘betrayal’. Her throat choked up, practically drowning in her own blood as she struggled to utter a name:

“A… Ais… ling…” †

With all her strength exhausted, Brynhildr’s body faded in a flurry of indigo dust. Sigurd watched in grieving silence as she disappeared. On one hand, he was glad that he wasn’t the one who wound up killing her. At the same time though, he regretted being unable to convince her of how wrong her ambition was.

“… Piece of trash,” Cuchulainn snarled darkly, then sauntered inside the fortress to search for Connla. His Curruid Coinchenn armor disintegrated, revealing the irate man beneath. He didn’t care about anything else except ensuring she would be safe from now on.

Sigurd took a deep breath to compose himself, then kneeled over Mordred and asked, “Are you all right?”

“Um… Well, as ‘all right’ as I can be for being tortured hours on end, then fighting two Servants right after…”

“Of course. What a foolish question for me to ask. I’ll tend to your wounds immediately.”

As he used some Runecraft to treat her, she asked, “Who are you, anyway?”

“Right, we didn’t get to meet each other formally. I am Sigurd, the hero of the _Nibelungenlied_. I’ve been escorting the Son of Cuchulainn in your absence.”

“Ugh… I’ve got _so_ many questions I want to ask you, but I’m too tired to care right now.”

“A wise discourse. You should conserve your strength - I fear we might be needing it soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the Grail.”

Both of them glanced over at the chalice, which had been neglected this entire time. To their collective surprise, it started to shine a cherry pink color and float above them. Mordred scowled, “That color… It’s the same pinkish hue Connla and I saw when we were forcefully Rayshifted here!”

“What’s going on here?” Sigurd wondered.

Mystical wisps of gold and pink light streaked from the Holy Grail like fireflies. Then, one by one, individual armored knights began to phase into existence. One, two, four, eight, 20, 50… There had to be at least 100 emotionless soldiers surrounding them by now. More of the twinkling lights flew off toward the war raging in the northwestern distance.

“Shit…” Mordred gasped and pointed her sword at some of the knights. “This is not looking too good for us…”

* * *

In the isolated Reality Marble that existed within the Kaleidoscope, the red-cloaked druid stood within the field of flowers and grass. In front of them was a large magic circle displaying what was going on in the Denmark Singularity. They silently raised their hand, then extended it. On their command, a sinewy thread of pure mana coursed from the Marble’s barrier and reached out for hundreds upon hundreds of kilometers, eventually reaching the world where the Singularity was occurring. The magical pseudopodia breached into the world and took hold of the Holy Grail, where the druid could then freely use it even though they were practically an entire universe away.

_It iS nOt enoUGh… It is IMPOSsiBle foR me TO desTRoy thIS dimENSIoN nOW… I SUPpoSE iT canNOt be HELpeD. I shOulD at LEaST gEt RiD oF thE oBSTaclES bEForE tHEy cAN becOmE a REAL thrEaT… EsPECialLy nOW that BryNHilDr lET slip My nAmE…_

Their thoughts sounded horribly disjointed, as if a hundred different types of voices were speaking all at once. Beneath the thick hood, a lone eye shimmered an eerie rosy color.

_DeATH to AlL inTERloPers… ESpeciAlLy tO aNY anD All SerVANTs fRoM ChaLDea…_

* * *

In the war front, the Valkyries and Valhallan warriors were still doing their best to kill the remainder of Agravain’s knights. The soulless beings had joined the battle to fill in the gap caused by the sudden loss of Gilles’ monsters. The Valhallans were fighting valiantly, but it was clear that fatigue was starting to catch up to them. Although the enemy’s losses were more significant, many of the chosen warriors were being killed off here and there. The force of 20,000 heroes had dwindled to around 10,000, and the Valkyries were starting to grow concerned.

“Sister, the Denialists’ numbers have been dramatically reduced,” Ortlinde said to Thrud. “Would it be wise for us to press on the attack, or fall back to let the survivors recover?”

The blonde-haired lady grimaced, unsure of how to proceed from here. Not only were they losing soldiers left and right, some of the Valkyries had been viciously slain as well. She could have them advance upon Copenhagen and claim the citadel to guarantee that no more monsters would spawn, but she had no idea if Sigurd and his allies were successful in defeating the remaining three Denialists. She certainly didn’t want to be the one to guide the army to what could potentially be a war of attrition when they were already so severely worn down. At the same time though, if they decided to fall back and rest without ensuring that the enemy leaders were dead, it could set them up to be retaliated against.

“It’s hard to say…” Thrud finally admitted. “Sigurd said he would send a signal notifying us of his success, but I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Should I go with a small deployment of Valkyries and assess the situation?”

“Perhaps that would be best. We need to be absolutely sure of what the enemy’s capabilities are at present.”

Before Ortlinde could go to gather a group of able-bodied Valkyries however, Hildr swooped in with a panicked look on her bleeding face as she shouted, “Something’s wrong, Thrud! There are tons of small pyreflies coming toward us from Copenhagen!”

“Pyreflies?”

Just as Thrud wondered this, she looked over to find the winter skies alight with twinkling gold-and-pink lights that flickered and danced about in the wind. If the phenomenon wasn’t so baffling, she would have mistaken them for magical dandelion fluff. Soon though, the sparkling orbs descended upon the bewildered Valhallans and materialized into hundreds upon hundreds of new knights to replace their defeated brethren. The armored soldiers said nary a word as they emerged from the frolicking lights and marched upon the exhausted warriors, their steps perfectly in tandem with each other to inspire a sense of dread in their disarrayed enemies.

“What blasphemy is this!?” Thrud exclaimed, then descended to stab her spear through a knight’s helmet and crack their head open viciously. The other knights didn’t seem to acknowledge the carnage happening to their comrade as they continued their stalwart advance. Some of the beastly soldiers ambushed her and attempted to cut her into pieces all at once. Ortlinde and Hildr similarly killed the attackers off and got their sister to safety before they could be overwhelmed.

“How strange,” Ortlinde remarked as she stared at the fluff-like glitter. “I don’t recall Agravain summoning these abominations in such a majestic fashion. Could this be the work of another party?”

“I don’t know, but if we don’t do something quick, we’re gonna be run over!” Hildr snapped.

Thrud winced, then commanded to the Valhallans, “Fall back, _FALL BACK!_ We cannot win this battle! Do not engage the enemy and retreat at once!”

The chosen heroes were stunned to hear such an order, yet had no choice but to obey. As the numerous warriors attempted to escape from the onslaught of silent knights, Thrud addressed the Valkyries with, “Assist in the escape as best as you can! Those who are able, curb as many of the knights as best as you can until all of the wounded have fled!”

“Yes!” the surviving Valkyries acknowledged and scattered about to assist their fleeing allies.

* * *

“Connla.”

The young Lancer heard her name being spoken by someone – definitely a man, but she couldn’t tell if he was Cuchulainn or Sigurd. She wanted to look to see who it was, but her eyes felt much too heavy to open fully. She had lost so much blood that she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Come on, open your eyes.”

She felt the person’s hand gently resting upon her head, so she did her utmost to at least peel one eye open. She discovered Cuchulainn kneeling over her wrecked body, shielding her vision of whatever was going on outside the armory.

“Good, you’re alive,” he sighed in relief.

“…”

Connla moved her jaw to try and speak, but she was much too weak to say anything. He urged, “Don’t talk. Just stay there and wait for me.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, and could only watch as he stood back up and faced the entrance while wielding Gae Bolg. She heard a series of strange armored footsteps marching for the armory, then saw a group of soulless knights advancing upon them. She couldn’t remember seeing so many guards back when she fought Gilles and Agravain.

“You bastards want the kid?” Cuchulainn smirked wickedly. “Come on, then. I’ll show you what real terror is.”

Two knights wordlessly charged at him, but their heads instantly parted ways from their necks as he swung Gae Bolg in a wide arc. He grinned like a madman as he slaughtered warrior after warrior without pause. The soldiers continuously barged in to try and overwhelm him, but he refused to allow them to pass. Corpses started to pile upon each other, and the heap became so high that Cuchulainn was nearly running out of room to discard the bodies.

“Heh. Sure brings back memories,” he muttered to himself, recalling the legendary one-man war he waged against Connacht’s forces. He jabbed his spiked spear through a knight’s throat, then peered back to notice that two soldiers were fast approaching the weakened Connla. He let out an angered howl and hurled Gae Bolg at their backs, skewering them to death together. The red lance returned to his hand on its own, but he scowled in frustration as the enemies continued to swarm upon him with seemingly no end.

Cuchulainn cursed under his breath. If he had been alone, he would have had no problem going all out to kill as many of these armored monsters as he could before expiring. With the need to protect Connla however, he couldn’t afford to die without making absolutely sure she was safe. He was the only thing standing between her and the knights ruthlessly butchering her into pieces.

_I can’t screw around with these things much longer,_ he thought. _If I could breach through their defenses for just a second, I could take the kid out of here and get her back to that summoning circle. The problem is whether or not her body is able to withstand the stress, even for just a minute._

He couldn’t forget how hideously beaten the small girl’s body was. It was impossible for him to deny the disturbingly warped look of her broken bones, and he feared he would make things worse if he tried to move her. He needed a moment to heal her, but he couldn’t do so when he was being ambushed continuously.

_“Damn it!”_ Cuchulainn shouted as he killed off more enemies, but their numbers were multiplying too rapidly for him to keep up with. A couple of knights slipped past him and barged straight for Connla, raising their swords with clear intent to murder her. He gasped in despair, unable to retaliate as he was being swarmed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mordred and Sigurd were doing their best to survive against the endlessly reproducing plague of soulless soldiers. Both Servants were suffering from extreme fatigue though, so it wouldn’t be long before the sheer numbers overwhelmed them.

“Son of a bitch! I refuse to go out like this!” Mordred snarled as she carved a man’s belly open, then whirled around to block a sword that was falling upon her back.

Sigurd didn’t want to share in her pessimism, yet believed it would be equally inappropriate to give her false words of encouragement. He just concentrated on the battle, punching dozens upon dozens of blue swords at an incoming wave of enemies that punctured through their armor like porcupine spines. He vaulted himself through the crowd and slashed at their midsections, but for every one or two that he killed, another two or three would spawn to replace them.

_How careless of me,_ he berated himself. _I should have prioritized the Grail’s destruction above all else…_

That was when a huge pillar of bright light illuminated the entire area, blinding everyone momentarily. It emanated from the summoning circle, where an entire team of Servants led by Fujimaru Ritsuka emerged after Rayshifting from Chaldea. The determined Magus immediately shouted, “Caster, Noble Phantasm!”

“Acknowledged,” Charles Babbage replied, then allowed a torrent of pure white steam to gush out of numerous vents on his robotic shell. “Behold my fantasy, my ideal, and my dream! **_Dimension of Steam!_** ”

The evaporated water shot out so rapidly that the mechanical Servant was propelled off the ground, then he dropped upon the knights like a heavy boulder and smashed his huge iron club onto the ground. The resulting earthquake was powerful enough to launch the enemies sky high, as if they were standing on an out-of-control trampoline rather than solid ground.

“Hah… hah…! M-Master!” Mordred gasped, unspeakably relieved to see her summoner after being apart for so long. With her Bloodstone’s Command Spells all depleted, she had been at risk of disappearing for good along with Connla. Once Ritsuka came to this world however, the threat was resolved now that Master and Servant could reestablish their bond.

Ritsuka kneeled next to her and assured, “We’re here now. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Ugh… Y-You know I had everything under control, right…?”

Then a stoic woman’s voice bellowed, “Don’t be stubborn, Sir Mordred. I have never seen you in such horrendous shape before. You must have been fighting for your life longer than your body can tolerate.”

Mordred exhaled an astonished breath as she recognized the lady’s firm tone and attitude. She and Ritsuka looked over at Artoria Lancer Alter as she strode her horse Llamrei in front of them. She guarded them from a new swath of soldiers that had materialized. She let out a derisive scoff and muttered, “These fellows are awfully similar to the knights of my time, yet they possess neither the honor nor the soul to grace my presence. They are but mere puppets that are brazen enough to slander my kingdom’s crest and armor. Begone from my sight, vermin.”

The dark-garbed Lancer commanded her steed to rush upon the mob, and she swiped her blackened spear Rhongomyniad at their heads with the finesse and might of an experienced jouster. More knights attempted to charge at her, but were suddenly thrown all over the place when a gigantic titan made out of nothing but interwoven straw and wood emerged from a Runic circle that had been spontaneously drawn beneath their feet.

“My Magecraft is a cage of flames! A flaming yet verdant giant of retribution, a shrine that purifies the evils of human affairs!” Cuchulainn Caster’s voice reverberated through the entire region. The blue-cloaked druid spun his wooden staff and shouted, “The one who destroys - **_Wicker Man!_** ”

On his command, the wooden giant ignited into a conflagration of scorching flames that incinerated any nearby enemies into ashes. Back at the summoning circle, Ozymandias folded his arms and observed the raging spectacle with bemusement.

“Hmph. A marvelous display of blazing punishment, though it is naught more than entertainment when compared to the destructive power of the Sun that I have authority over,” he remarked. He shifted his eyes over and added, “Besides, there appears to be another commotion occurring in the distance… A war? Interesting. I will unleash my judgment upon this ignoramus lot and restore order in the name of Ozymandias.”

“I have no idea what’s going on here, but take as many Servants as needed and guide them to victory, Rider,” Ritsuka told him, and the delighted king took off with a team of warriors.

Mash said, “Now that we’ve secured Sir Mordred, we should make sure Cuchulainn Alter and Connla are okay.”

“Yeah. That’s what we came here to do in the first place.”

“I’m coming with you!” Medb squealed. “If anyone has hurt my Cu and Connie, they’ll experience something far worse than Hell!”

“Right… Let’s go!”

The trio hurried inside Copenhagen Fortress, with Mash and Medb beating away any knights that tried to impede them. The soldiers appeared to be congregating before the armory, so they headed in that direction and discovered Cuchulainn fighting away. Connla was lying on the ground just behind him, but clearly was in no shape to do battle herself. Two knights were about to kill her, so Ritsuka raised her hand and shouted, _“Gandr!”_

Several magic bullets shot through the air and struck the soldiers, paralyzing their nerves and rendering them unable to move. Mash barged through the mob and jumped, then plummeted upon the incapacitated soldiers with her shield in front so she crushed them beneath it.

“Feh… ‘Bout time you guys came,” Cuchulainn grumbled with a smile as the pair joined his side.

“Sorry for being so late!” Mash exclaimed, then used both Obscurant Wall of Chalk and Shield of Rousing Resolution skills to grant herself temporary invincibility while drawing the enemies’ attention toward her. Ritsuka cast Reinforce All on Mash and Cuchulainn to increase their strength, and Cuchulainn was all too eager to rush in and mutilate the stupefied knights while Mash kept them preoccupied.

“Draw them out to the hall!” Ritsuka shouted. “Rider can take them out in one shot there!”

“Okay!” Mash declared and ran through the soldiers, not feeling any pain as they tried to hack and slash at her fortified flesh. They followed her back outside, unclogging the armory of the countless armored figures.

Cuchulainn wasn’t sure which Rider-class Servant his Master was referring to since she had an impressive number of them in her ranks. He was about to ask, but then got his answer when he heard Medb’s voice cry out, **_“Chariot My Love!”_**

Two gaunt bulls hauling a royal carriage barreled through the herd and sent a good number of knights flying everywhere. Mash had to roll aside to avoid getting stomped on. During the rampage, the pink-haired Queen of Connacht hopped out of the wagon and landed near the stoic Berserker.

_“CUUU~UUU!”_ Medb squealed with delight and rushed to give him a mighty hug. “Oh, Cu! I missed you _so_ much!”

“… Yeah,” he grumbled. Normally he would be disinterested in her advances and push her away, but after being away from Chaldea for so long, he figured that Medb had been beside herself with worry, so he allowed her to hold him tightly for a moment.

“Where’s Connie?” the queen asked, then found the child Lancer slumped upon the rubble nearby. Her jubilation turned into dread as she inspected Connla’s grave injuries and squealed in dismay, _“Oh, Connie, my little knight! Who did this horrible thing to you, sweetie!?”_

Cuchulainn snapped, “Relax. I’ve killed the one responsible.”

“How unfortunate. I’ve been prepared this whole time to beat any foolish scoundrels into bloody pulps if they even _thought_ about harming Connie,” the queen grumbled in disappointment. “Anyway, we should get her back immediately!”

“She’s way too injured to be moved right now. Master, can you take care of this?”

“I’m on it,” Ritsuka said and kneeled over Connla, raising the hand with the Command Spells over her. She expended one charge to cast a potent healing spell on the girl, quickly repairing her broken limbs and profusely bleeding wounds enough so that she could be carried without causing further injury.

“M… as… ter…” Connla gasped quietly.

“I said don’t talk,” Cuchulainn ordered her, then scooped her in his arms. “Medb and I are heading back with the kid. It’s just clean up work from here on out, but don’t let your guard down. The Holy Grail’s still pouring out those accursed knights.”

“I guess we have no choice but to destroy this one,” Mash said. Normally the Chaldeans prioritized claiming Holy Grails from the Singularities and analyzing them further, but if they posed too great a threat for them to quell, destruction was utilized as a last resort.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

† - _Aisling_ can either be pronounced the traditional Irish way of ‘Ash-ling’ or the nonstandard ‘Eyes-ling’


	18. A Deserved Rest

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 18: A Deserved Rest**

“Guh! This is futile!” Thrud gasped, immediately after slaying what must have been her hundredth opponent. No matter what she and her fellow Valkyries did to protect the fleeing Valhallan warriors though, more and more of the monstrous armored knights kept spawning and swarming them. It was only a matter of time before the lady warriors would be truly overwhelmed, and the knights could make their advance not just on the Valhallans but also across all of Denmark, potentially slaying everyone in their path for no reason other than pure destruction.

“Get away, sister! You’ve fought more than enough!” Ortlinde implored as she incinerated another man with Rune magic.

“That goes double for you!” Hildr objected, noting the black-haired woman’s copious injuries.

“Don’t worry about me. I will keep going until I breathe my last. It would shame Father if I did nothing less than my utmost.”

“I know that, but…”

Just then, a man’s distinctly regal voice boomed all over the raging battlefield, “Fear not, Children of Odin and their Chosen Ones! This battle is all but assured now that I, the Third Pharaoh of the 19th Dynasty of Egypt, have arrived with the finest Servants at my disposal! Witness my might and bask in the glory that is Ozymandias!”

“What!?” Thrud yelped, and everyone stared up as an unnaturally brilliant light illuminated the dreary grey skies. A wave of warmth radiated from the light, slightly melting the snow on the ground and turning any falling white fluff into rain. In the epicenter of this aura was the most famous and legendary Pharaoh of Egypt; Ramesses II, otherwise known as Ozymandias.

With a delighted smile plastered across his face, he raised his staff and shouted, “How fragile! I will eradicate these uncultured hooligans with but one stroke! Behold the Pharaoh’s infinite eminence!”

On his command, the clouds parted slightly to allow for a tremendous beam of pure concentrated sunlight to carve all across the field like a laser, burning any knights caught in its path. Flames and steam were left in its wake, and practically dozens of enemies were reduced to either cinders or scalding masses of metal and flesh.

“What’s going on!?” Hildr wondered. She and the other Valkyries then noticed a small army of Chaldea’s Servants rushing to support them.

Cuchulainn Prototype scoffed while slicing an enemy’s throat, “I’m glad I finally get to fight a real battle, but I could do with less of that pimp’s pontificating!”

Cuchulainn Lancer zig-zagged everywhere and punctured his spear through several knights, then told his alternate self, “Hah, that’s nothing! Try listening to Gilgamesh going on about himself some time! You’ll want to rupture your own eardrums after enduring _that_ kind of torture!”

“I think I’ll pass! But speaking of rupturing…”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?”

“Yeah!”

Both men hopped in opposite directions and got into position. The color on Prototype’s green lance peeled away to reveal its true form – another version of the crimson spear Gae Bolg. He shouted, “Pierce them! Gut them! Finish them!”

“Accept this blow as your requiem!” Lancer followed up, energizing his own polearm.

**_“Gae Bolg!”_** both Lancers unleashed the identical True Name of their Noble Phantasms and hurled their weapons in an X formation. Usually, Gae Bolg was deployed as an Anti-Unit attack, but in this case both spears mutated in shape into large thorny branches, allowing them to become Anti-Army attacks that carved through intersecting lines of knights. Any foes unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire were torn into unrecognizable shreds.

Elsewhere, Sakata Kintoki leapt over an assembled crowd of enemies and energized his axe with raw lighting, then slammed it upon the ground while shouting, **_“GOLDEN SPAAA~AARK!”_**

The electric storm detonated like a bomb and sent dozens of men flying back while their bodies were cooked alive from the extreme voltage. Shuten watched the spectacle with amusement and crooned, “Tee hee. You look like you’re having a good time, boy. Maybe you could spare some of that liveliness for me when we get back?”

“You always pick the worst times to come on me, don’t you!? Why not save that energy for combat instead of distracting me!?” Kintoki barked at her, clearly appearing unnerved by her untimely advances.

“Oh, bother. You can be such a bore sometimes. Oh well, I’m a patient one,” the scantily-clad oni murmured, then raised her _sakazuki_ while boredly observing a group of knights rushing toward her. “Be good children and die for me, okay? **_Senshibankou – Shinpen Ki Doku._** ”

She poured a dangerous-looking lime green fluid out of her drinking cup, and it flowed all around the enemies to engulf them fully. A terrifying curse seized their entire bodies, and they slowly, torturously melted into little more than armored skeletons that collapsed to the ground in acrid heaps of gore and death. Shuten found entertainment in such a long, drawn-out death, and she quietly sipped her alcohol while watching her victims die in writhing agony.

“I don’t get how you like keeping the enemy alive for as long as possible,” Ibaraki complained as she decapitated a nearby knight. “It’s better to wipe them out in an instant!”

“You’re much too impatient. You should learn to relax and enjoy life a bit more.”

“Not when there are so many annoying bastards ruining the view! Come on, get out of my sight already!” the blonde-haired oni raged and raised her reddened arm up. Fire swirled around it, and she called out, **_“Rashomon Dai Engi!_** ”

Her hand morphed into a much larger version, and it shot clean off her arm – an anecdote to how she lost her arm fighting against Watanabe no Tsuna. It rocketed for some knights that were about to gang up on some injured Valhallans and clasped around 10 men whole, then exploded in a scalding inferno that dissolved the victims into ashes. As the wounded men escaped from the battlefield, Ibaraki scoffed, “Damn it. Saving others really isn’t my thing. But if that’s what will keep Master quiet, then I guess I have no choice.”

Nearby, Nursery Rhyme heard the oni’s complaining and said, “I don’t know really know what’s going on here, but all that matters is that we’re having fun, right?”

“I guess.”

“Of course! Now then! Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumps over the candlestick. Zero to one, one to two, how many nimble-rocks can you do?” the young Servant sang happily as she opened her book of fairy tales and spread some kind of sleeping powder. The knights weren’t sure what the little girl was doing singing children’s songs in the middle of a war zone, and the strange substance made then feel even sleepier than usual. Just then, each man fell one by one as a hazy black silhouette ricocheted around and slit their throats open with their razor-sharp knives. Anyone who tried to see the enemy would not perceive them as anything but pure darkness.

“I got 10!” Jack the Ripper materialized from out of the inky blackness, having used her strongest attack, Maria the Ripper, to slay their enemies. “But this isn’t enough! Mommy won’t be proud of us unless we take down at least three times that!”

“Come now, you don’t need to push yourself. We’re all working together, aren’t we?” Nursery assured.

“We’re not pushing ourselves! We’ve been waiting for _so_ long to play outside!”

“I can see that. You’re a lot more excited than usual.”

“Yep! Okay, time to kill more of Mommy’s enemies!”

As the girls hurried elsewhere to assist with the battle, Ozymandias folded his arms and grinned, “Hmm… Now that is a sight I can always approve of – young children laughing in jubilation as they frolic about and play. The standards may be a little different since they are Servants, but I shall permit their behavior since we are in the midst of such bedlam.”

Meanwhile, Nitocris was busy preparing to use her Noble Phantasm, but managed to spare a glance back at him and said, “Allow me to eliminate this rabble, Your Majesty. These insects are not worth you batting an eyelash for.”

“Very good! Show me your true strength, Avatar of the Sky!”

Overjoyed with receiving the most famous Pharaoh’s approval, Nitocris floated over the ground and exclaimed, “Mirror of Corpses, Mirror of Darkness, become a gate and unleash terror!”

A large portal opened up behind, and from within emerged a humanoid jackal-like figure with entirely black skin that was about three times her height. This was a representation of Anubis, the Egyptian god of the dead, and the ‘portal’ was more like a mirror that constantly reflected the repulsive darkness of death. A pair of huge white wings sprouted from Anubis’ back that surrounded a smaller portal. Nitocris called out, “ ** _Anpu Neb-Ta-Djeser!_** ”

Then hundreds upon hundreds of ghoulish ghosts swarmed out and assaulted the flock of knights. The undead monsters had the ability to instantly kill any living targets except for those who had high Death Resistance, which these knight did not possess. Warriors who had been standing fell instantly fell limp like rag dolls as their souls were taken away to the underworld. Once the assault dissipated, Nitocris observed her handiwork and sighed, “Phew. This isn’t as difficult as cleaning Master’s room, but using my greatest ability to wipe out such drudgery is an affront to my majesty as a Pharaoh.”

Ozymandias looked around in contempt and remarked, “I see how the enemy could besiege such a grand yet frigid nation though. The clouds are dark, which do not allow the boundless light of the Sun to shine forth. Such darkness thus allows for all manners of shady outlaws to conduct their repugnant deeds. A Pharaoh cannot hope to rule with absolute authority without the Sun shining its limitless smile and warmth upon the populace in equal measure.”

“That is absolutely true, my lord,” she smiled at him, then stared around in disdain at their surroundings. “What vulgar territory this is, steeped in such dismal bleakness and terrible cold weather. I cannot stand to gaze upon anything other than clear blue skies and a blazing hot sun. Unfortunately, my power is insignificant in comparison to yours. Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you intend to bless this depressing nation with your boundless splendor?”

He raised his striped crook scepter once again and declared, “That I am! I shall be the one to part these oppressive clouds and restore light to these besieged lands. Once I do, all shall come to know the might and glory of Ozymandias, who brought light and hope to a kingdom that the Norse gods abandoned!”

Suddenly, the concept of gravity meant nothing to the legendary Pharaoh as he hovered high above the sprawling battlefield. As he stared down at the masses, his voice boomed, “ _Almighty Gods, witness my work and fall prostrate! My infinite brilliance, the Sun descends now!_ **_Ramesseum Tentyris!_** ”

Rays of sunlight pierced through the thick clouds and gradually broke them apart to reveal the midday blue sky. Falling snow melted into rain as a wave of warmth washed over the winter weather. From within the monochromatic clouds, the tip of an upside-down pyramid shining pure white jutted through. Then it plummeted upon the enemy army and engulfed hundreds of men in such searing heat that not even a trace of their bones remained. The Noble Phantasm was so deadly that the rest of Chaldea’s Servants had to escape to avoid being burned to cinders.

* * *

“Mom! Mom, come here!”

In a temporary residence within Odense, Linnea heard her son Ahren shouting from outside. She quickly slipped on her fur coat and boots, fearing that he was in some kind of trouble. She found him jumping about in a frenzy though, so she demanded, “What on earth is this ruckus you’re causing?”

“Look at the sky!” the young boy pointed straight east.

“Hm?” Linnea wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so she peered over in the direction he indicated. To her surprise, she could see some kind of light permeating through the clouds over Copenhagen. No matter how far any resident within Denmark was from the capital city, everyone witnessed the aftereffects of Ozymandias’ devastating attack. Those who were directly south on Germany’s northern shoreline, as well as folks in southern Sweden could see the bizarre rays of sun light up the grey atmosphere.

Linnea raised her hands to her mouth in shock and exclaimed, “My word!”

“It has to be Mordred and Connla!” Ahren yelled happily. “They really, really did it! They found more heroes to help them save us from the bad guys, just as they promised!”

“I… don’t know what to say…”

“What’s wrong, Mom? Aren’t you happy?”

“I-I’m just not sure what this is. What if this light is actually a bad omen?”

“Oh, come on! What kind of villain would create such a pretty sky!? It has to be the work of an especially powerful hero, like a king or a god!”

“I don’t know…” Linnea murmured nervously. “Anyway, we should get back inside. There’s no telling if we’re still in danger or not.”

“Geez. You can be so boring sometimes,” Ahren moped.

“I just want to be sure, that’s all. Come on, inside.”

The boy mumbled in annoyance, but obeyed his mother and followed her back inside the house. He took another glance back at the rays of light and thought about how the girls were doing.

* * *

Artoria Lancer Alter gazed at the sunlight as well, though she wasn’t as enthusiastic about seeing its splendor compared to how the Danish citizens were. Her attention was more focused on the Holy Grail that kept spewing demonic warriors. She and her horse Llamrei stood in front of Mordred and Sigurd to shield them from the onslaught.

“How ironic,” Artoria murmured grimly. “Here I am, face-to-face with the one treasure I was not able to acquire in my life. Yet in this moment, in order to safeguard the ones who matter to me, I must raise my lance and bring destruction upon it.”

“Father…” Mordred whispered.

Sigurd implored, “It must be done. If you are not willing to do it, then I shall use the last of my strength to destroy the Grail without hesitation.”

“No,” Artoria firmly retorted. “You have expended more than enough energy to keep Sir Mordred safe. As an expression of my gratitude, I will take care of this unpleasant task.”

She raised her spiral black spear up high, and the pointed lance spun on the hilt like a drill. Billows of dark gusts whirled around in a makeshift tornado all around her. She declared, “Thrust forth and feast on my enemy’s entrails, Almighty Thirteen Fangs of Judgment!”

Then she pointed the weapon at the barrage of knights that were rushing toward. She was unperturbed by their advance and focused only on attacking the Grail.

**_“Rhongomyniad!”_ **

A turbulent swirl of black-tinted winds rocketed for the shining chalice and overwhelmed it in darkness. Bit by bit, the energy corroded the golden cup and disintegrated it into nothing. The pinkish aura grasping the Grail retreated like a sinewy thread, and all of the knights that had been summoned instantly fell to their knees before vaporizing into dust. Similarly, Copenhagen Fortress crumbled apart and disintegrated, leaving no trace of its existence to threaten the Human Order Foundation for Denmark. A burst of brilliant blue light exploded from the Grail’s fragments, then spread out everywhere as a cloud of particles. Mordred suddenly felt rejuvenated, and her wounds appeared to close on their own.

“This is… mana…” she gasped.

“Yes. It has returned to where it belongs – free in the sky, rather than condensed inside that cursed chalice of greed,” Artoria said. She got off her horse, then faced her exhausted ‘son’ and held her shoulder while saying, “You appear to have recovered, but we should get you back and have you examined.”

“Geez, I’m not a little kid. I’m perfectly fine now.”

“Are you disobeying your king?”

“Uh… I-I mean, of course not! I can’t spend any time lying around, so-!”

Suddenly, a bout of vertigo struck Mordred and nearly made her lose her balance. Artoria helped her stay upright until the dizzying sensation stopped. She remarked bitterly, “See? The moment you think you’ve fully healed is actually when you’re in the most danger.”

“She’s right,” Sigurd said. “Go back to your world and get some rest, Sir Mordred. You deserve it.”

“Uh… well I…” Mordred blushed profusely as she stared at the stone-faced yet concerned Artoria. A flood of thoughts rushed through her head, mainly along the lines of, _Indigo Father is so COOL! He’s way better than Blue and Black, at least!_

“Come. We must depart,” Artoria commanded, then brought Mordred over to the summoning circle so they could return to Chaldea. Sigurd watched them leave, then saw Ritsuka and her Servants re-emerge from within the fortress. Cuchulainn and Medb likewise Rayshifted back home with Connla in tow, leaving Ritsuka and Mash alone. He stood there for a short while, pondering what to do from here.

“This area is secure, and the Grail’s destruction has been confirmed. We should make sure Lord Ozymandias and the others have our full support in whatever that battle is,” Mash said, then peered over at Sigurd as he approached them. “Oh. Senpai, look. There’s another Servant.”

“Hm?” Ritsuka wondered and inspected the tall fellow. “Who might you be?”

“You certainly are trusting of others,” he remarked. “Didn’t it occur to you that I could be a potential enemy?”

Mash reacted by getting in front of the Magus and demanding, “Does that mean you are!? I won’t let you lay a finger on my Master!”

“Calm yourself. I meant no offense - I was just saying that you have such a benevolent contractor, young one. Most Masters would be wary of any Servant other than their own.”

“Uh… Of course. Senpai is good to everyone she meets…” the Shielder uttered, surprised that this icy-eyed fellow was making such compliments about her senior. “Is there something you want from her? What’s your True Name, anyway?”

“I am a Saber Servant. My True Name is Sigurd, the son of Sigmund and hero of the _Nibelungenlied._ I shall gladly explain my circumstances at a later date, though that would be assuming that I am allowed to join Chaldea’s ranks as one of your Servants.”

Both girls widened their eyes in surprise, not expecting him to say such a thing. He furrowed his eyebrows and wondered, “Is my request too much for you to grant, young Mage?”

“N-No, not at all! I’m ecstatic to recruit a Saber as famous and powerful as you!” Ritsuka yelped. “But, do you have a Master of your own?”

“I was summoned at the goddess Frigg’s behest to resolve this calamity, though she gave me the freedom to do as I pleased. Now that my duties have been completed in this world, there will be no issue with me transferring my allegiance to you, otherworlder.”

“Okay. Let’s form the contract then.”

* * *

Back at the war front, any knights that somehow survived Ozymandias’ Noble Phantasm quickly lost their ability to exist now that the Holy Grail was no longer around to anchor them to this realm. One by one, all of the armored warriors disappeared into harmless flecks of light, freeing the Chaldean Servants, the Valkyries, and the Valhallans from their tyranny.

“Looks like it’s over,” Kintoki said with a grin.

“Aww,” Shuten whined. “I was just starting to have fun, too.”

“What the hell do you think this is, some kind of vacation? We’re supposed to be resolving this Singularity with Golden Style!”

Ibaraki muttered, “I don’t know about any kind of ‘Golden’ shit, but it’s obvious that no more of those bastards will be appearing. Does that mean I can go back and take a nap now?”

“Speaking of naps,” Shuten smiled coyly and wrapped her arms around Kintoki’s chiseled abs, “you did really well today, boy. Would you like to have _me_ as your reward for tonight?”

Suddenly, the buff Berserker thrust his fist at her, but she jumped away so quickly that he struck a tree trunk instead. He angrily barked at her, “Don’t even _go_ there! This Golden body of mine is not something for you to play with!”

“Hee hee, I was just kidding. Can’t you learn to take a joke?”

“It’s impossible to tell if you’re kidding or not when you’re always smiling like such a drunken dope.”

As the Japanese Servants conversed with each other, Nitocris said to Ozymandias, “What a wonderful service you have performed for this world, my liege. The light of your authority now shines upon this backwater populace once again.”

“You are mistaken,” the Pharaoh said plainly. “My authority extends to every corner of the world, regardless if such lands are basked in urban glory or consigned to rural drudgery. You would be wise not to refer to any of my territory as ‘backwater’ from now on.”

“Oh, my apologies! I spoke dreadfully out of turn! No punishment is suitable for such transgression, but I shall accept any sentence you mete upon me!”

“I will have to consider that later. For now, let us return to my chambers and celebrate the retrieval of two worthy vassals.”

The Egyptians began to head back for the summoning circle, but were stopped when Thrud, Hildr and Ortlinde flew in front of them. The blonde Valkyrie commanded, “Halt.”

“What is this?” Nitocris demanded furiously. “What do you vermin think you’re doing, impeding Lord Ozymandias’ return to his rightful place?”

“We simply want to know where all of you Servants originated from. I didn’t think the World was capable of summoning so many Heroic Spirits at once.”

Ozymandias smirked, “Remember this well, warrior maidens of Norse myth. You and your impersonal deities shall make alms to I, Ozymandias, and one of his most prized followers - the Magus of Chaldea, Fujimaru Ritsuka, whose army of Servants I command in battle!”

“Chaldea…” Ortlinde murmured. “That’s the organization which the Sons of Arthur and Cuchulainn hail from, correct?”

“Verily so! Without my guidance, this world would have been lost to eternal darkness, never to bask in the warmth of the Sun again. Now that my wayward followers have been recovered and this land has returned to its rightful state, I shall take my leave and observe the development of these nation as the Everlasting Eye of the Sun itself. Ensure that your gods and mortals alike record the marvelous exploits of Ozymandias and his retainers for future generations to come.”

“Oh, please, all you did was use a Noble Phantasm on those guys!” Hildr scoffed. “That’s nothing to write home about!”

_“My word!”_ Nitocris screamed. “Are you as naïve and gullible as you look, or just plain stupid!? You have some nerve to provoke the world’s greatest Pharaoh so blatantly!”

“Calm yourself,” Ozymandias assured. “I would be a fool to expect immediate gratitude from those who were supposed to protect their own home. They fought most valiantly, yet were swiftly outclassed by me. Though it is irritating, I shall permit their frustration. I too would be most ashamed if I allowed an outsider to burst in from the ether and defend my country so callously.”

“I suppose so…” the purple-haired queen mumbled in agreement.

“Even so, honorable Valkyries, you would be prudent to at least remember what I and all of Chaldea have done for you. Spread word to your people and let them know of the freedom we have all granted them.”

Thrud’s expression was stone-cold, but nevertheless she remarked, “Very well. Chaldea’s assistance has been most appreciated. We will be sure to notify Father of what you have done for us. Now if you will excuse us, we must attend to restoring Denmark back to its former state.”

“Hm. Godspeed, Children of Odin.”

With that, the three women flew off into the distance. Their surviving sisters tended to the remaining warriors of Valhalla, and they all returned to Asgard where the majestic Hall of Warriors was. Ozymandias, Nitocris, and all of the other Servants gave their regards to the Valkyries before parting ways, returning to the summoning circle so they could Rayshift back to Chaldea.

* * *

In Chaldea’s Spiritron coffin chamber, Ritsuka and Mash returned first. They woke up from their slumber and stood before Da Vinci and Roman. Then each of Ritsuka’s Servants phased back into existence, beginning with Ozymandias and his crew, then Artoria, Mordred and Sigurd, and ending with Cuchulainn Alter, Medb and Connla. Everyone was home now, though Mordred, Sigurd and Connla would require extensive treatment for their serious injuries. Cuchulainn was likewise as badly wounded from his fight with Vlad, but he declined any medical attention.

“One, two, three… Good, everyone’s back,” Da Vinci said, then glanced at Sigurd and uttered, “Oh my. Looks like we’ve got a new face in the crowd.”

“Yes,” Ritsuka said. “This is Sigurd, from Norse mythology.”

“A pleasure to meet you, madam,” the bespectacled Saber greeted her. “My apologies if my presence here is somewhat sudden, but I will explain everything that transpired in that world. There are some things that I’m sure you all would be interested in knowing about the situation surrounding the Son of Cuchulainn.”

“Excellent,” the jovial inventor replied. “For now though, let’s allow everyone to get some rest.”

“Speaking of Connla,” Roman said as he thoroughly examined the unconscious little girl. “No question about it – she’s gonna need surgery. Mordred seems to be faring better, but we should keep both of them under strict medical observation.”

“Ugh, I was afraid of this. Guess there’s no choice. I’ll leave the kid to you and your team,” Cuchulainn grumbled as he laid Connla on a stretcher that Florence Nightingale and some nurses rolled in. “If you guys need blood, I have plenty to give her.”

“Leave her to us,” Roman assured, then he and his team took both Connla and Mordred to the medical bay. One of the doctors brought a wheelchair for Mordred to ride in, but the knight objected, “Hey, now this is going too far! I’ll die of embarrassment if anyone sees me being wheeled around like some withered grandma!”

“Cease this obstinate behavior at once,” Artoria snapped and forced her ‘son’ to sit down. “Since strict observation is the doctor’s order, I will have to be the one to vigilantly prevent you from doing anything foolish until that order is rescinded.”

“Geez, let go of me, Father!”

“What are you, a child? Enough is enough already.”

Artoria struggled to restrain Mordred while wheeling her down the hall to the medical ward.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the back of the crowd, Gilgamesh remained stoic as he stared at the fallen Connla while she was being taken away. Some kind of unexpected emotion crawled around inside him like a termite hiding in a piece of rotting wood. It certainly wasn’t pity; she was not worthy of being on par with one of his beloved Sumerians for him to sympathize with her. He couldn’t deny that it was something similar however. What was it? Revulsion? Horror? Aversion? Loathing? Disgust?

… No. Gilgamesh wasn’t disgusted at Connla.

He was disgusted _for_ her.

He wasn’t sure if a word existed for this sensation, but he realized that he was getting tired of watching one of his subjects being brutally tortured like this repeatedly. Connla was perhaps one of the lowest commoners among Chaldea’s Servants to ever befoul Gilgamesh’s sight, yet he knew she never did anything to deserve this. She was a diligent worker and did her utmost to make everyone else’s life as convenient as possible, including his own (if only indirectly).

_Pathetic,_ he thought. _What am I doing, harboring such strange emotions for that nonessential whelp? For shame - her fate should not be of any consequence to me. It is only because I want to make that sharp-tongued woman my possession that I’m even giving her a modicum of my attention._

_Although…_

Gilgamesh smiled to himself.

_They say that since runts are already at rock bottom, they conversely have the greatest potential for development. Nothing bores me more than those who make no effort to improve themselves, and the runt has certainly entertained me by surviving hell on more than one occasion. This might have been the worst yet, yet she came back alive, and that is all that matters to me._

_Maybe there is something in this for me after all…_

* * *

The operation took two hours for the team to complete. Roman and Nightingale wanted to be absolutely sure that Connla’s bones and internal organs were fully intact, plus they needed to resupply her with plenty of blood since she had lost so much. Once they were sure that she would be okay, they stitched her back up and attached her to various medical devices such as a heart monitor, an oxygen mask, and IV lines. The anesthesia soon lost its effect, allowing Connla to awaken in a state of foggy thoughts and utter confusion.

“At last you’re up,” Nightingale said as she and the other nurses wheeled her stretcher to an empty hospital room.

“M-Ms. Nightingale…?”

“Don’t exert yourself. You are attached to numerous medical devices. It is best that you remain immobile so that you do not exacerbate your injuries.”

Connla’s eyes followed Nightingale as she shuffled about. She looked around, unsure of where she was. She remembered being in the Denmark Singularity, fighting against Agravain and Brynhildr during the climatic showdown to save that world. The room she was in presently was much too futuristic to fit with the time period she had been in prior. She heard the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor nearby, and felt the oxygen mask covering her entire lower face. There was just one conclusion she could come to:

“Am I… back…?”

“Yes,” Nightingale explained. “Your father brought you here to undergo emergency medical treatment. He claimed you were severely devastated by an especially dangerous Noble Phantasm and rendered physically incapacitated, which necessitated immediate surgical procedures. Cuchulainn had to donate some of his blood to compensate for the tremendous amount you had lost.”

“Father…” Connla whimpered forlornly.

“Speaking of your father, he wanted me to give this to you when you woke up.”

The nurse handed Mini-Cu over to the girl, and she held it in front of her. The toy had never left her side for the entirety of the final battle. It was almost as if he had become a natural part of her being, and that being apart from him would make her feel uncomfortable.

“Oh… right,” the little girl whispered and stared into the doll’s large red eyes, remembering how she protected Mordred from Brynhildr’s strongest attack. “Is Sir Mordred okay?”

“I have personally made sure that Mordred will not be able to leave her room while in recovery. Lancer Alter is likewise keeping her under observation so she does not do anything outrageous before fully healing. Although her injuries are not as serious as yours, the aftereffects of the torture she endured are quite significant. As a result, Master will not be employing either of you for missions until Roman and I officially discharge you.”

“I see…”

“I’m going to inject some morphine now. Just relax.”

“Mm,” Connla mumbled and remained still. About 10 minutes later, the drugs kicked in and reduced the intense pain coursing throughout her entire body.

Once Nightingale was finished taking care of her young patient, she said, “By the way, Zhuge Liang said he wanted to speak with you once you were ready.”

“Lord El-Melloi?” the girl wondered and raised an eyebrow. She had never spoken to the deadpan Caster before, so she was rather surprised that he wanted to meet her out of nowhere. “I wonder what he wants to talk about…”

“I have no idea. He’s been waiting this entire time, so I will bring him in.”

The red-coated nurse departed for a minute, then returned with the tall bespectacled gentleman. Zhuge sat next to Connla’s bed, and she nervously asked, “I-Is there something you want from me, sir?”

“I’ll be as brief as possible so you can get your rest,” he said to her with a stern yet fair tone. “I’ve been told that you have a series of Runes embedded on your brain that artificially enhance your intelligence, correct?”

“How did you find out about that?”

“Babbage had a lively discussion with me and Paracelsus regarding the effects such Runecraft would have on a child’s brain, and how they will affect your performance as a Servant. Cuchulainn Caster also told me about the circumstances behind them, but I will not get into that now.”

“…”

“Anyway, there’s something I want to look into, but I need some information from you. Tell me, what did you experience when you were asleep for those two weeks after fighting Berserker Lancelot?”

“Eh? There should be a record in Chaldea’s database that I’ve been writing,” she muttered, perplexed as to where he was going with these random questions.

“Give me the abridged version. I’ll read the entire thing later.”

“Well… Basically, I became a passive observer in another version of myself, who lived in a different version of the Fifth Singularity that Master resolved before. I don’t know how the original Singularity went since she didn’t summon me until shortly before the Sixth Singularity, so I had to read the original records to make comparisons.”

“Hmm. The Fifth Singularity we encountered never had any mention of you. You are correct to assume that the world you experienced is one that Chaldea will never see. And you’re saying you witnessed a different Connla’s entire life in that world?”

“Yes. It felt so real, as if I had taken her place.”

“Interesting,” Zhuge pondered. “Could this be a branch of Second Magic that was once considered lost? It’s not quite on the level of the full-on multidimensional travel that Zelretch mastered, but there is no law stating that the body can’t be discarded while the mind travels through different worlds, even if it’s only on a temporary basis. But if that’s the case, what implications would this have? Is it even safe to utilize this ability, never mind control it?”

“Um…” Connla whimpered, wondering what he was going on about.

“Oh, pardon me. I was just rambling to myself,” he apologized, then asked, “So you believe you’re going to experience the same phenomenon again?”

“Even now, I feel like my spirit is being pulled somewhere… I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake…”

“Then it is inevitable that you will live through another Connla’s life again. That’s fine. I actually want to monitor your condition and do some research into those Runes on your brain.”

She became concerned, wondering, “Are you saying those Runes are causing all of this?”

“I can’t be certain without a thorough analysis, but I strongly believe so.”

“Is that right…? So, is there anything you need me to do?”

“Just go to sleep and let it happen. Roman, Nightingale and I will take care of your body while your mind is elsewhere. I’ll do everything I can to examine your mental state so we have a better understanding of this ability. If we feel you’re in danger, we’ll do what we can to wake you back up.”

“Okay,” Connla yawned and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long for her to fully pass out and sink into the dark yet comfortable world of sleep once again.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: One more chapter to go, guys. On a side note, I snagged Cu Alter, Medb, and Archer Pirates in the game yesterday (July 12), and am grinding the summer event like crazy to boost them. You have no idea how much of a happy girl I am to have the E Pluribus OTP in my roster now. :D


	19. To the Next Dream

**FATE/BROTHERS IN DESTINY**

**Chapter 19: To the Next Dream**

Once Zhuge Liang concluded his business with Connla and allowed her to fall asleep, he took his leave and headed to the waiting room. There, he found Ritsuka, Mash, Cuchulainn Alter and Medb sitting there in anticipation for seeing the young patient. Cuchulainn appeared especially antsy, constantly fidgeting and tapping his foot on the floor.

Once they saw Zhuge, Ritsuka asked him, “How is she doing?”

“She pulled through the operation with flying colors,” he replied with a light smile. “I wanted to ask her a few questions, but she was terribly exhausted from the whole ordeal.”

“I’ll bet she was,” Mash frowned. “So can we see her now?”

“Roman gave the okay.”

“Finally,” Cuchulainn grumbled and immediately headed for the hospital room. The others followed behind him, and Zhuge watched them leave. He thought about the conversation he had with Connla, which inevitably sidelined the scholar into topics of similar interest such as parallel universes, the Second Magic, Zelretch, and the true nature of the child Servant’s unnatural ability to see other versions of herself through dreams.

_Is there any way for Chaldea’s currently existing technology to actually visualize her dreams for us to observe? No, more importantly, I need to understand the source of this skill first and foremost, along with the level of control she can exercise over it. Then it would be a matter of finding practical usage that could benefit the Grand Orders, though such investigations could only be limited to worlds with other Connlas in them…_

He wandered off to his workshop, brainstorming dozens upon dozens of different ideas to explore in the near future.

* * *

Ritsuka’s group soon arrived in the hospital room that Connla would be staying in for who knew how long. Roman, Nightingale and the other nurses were finished tending to her for now, so they stepped aside to allow the group to see her.

She looked like a complete stranger, with all of her hair tucked beneath a hospital cap while an oxygen mask covered the entirety of her lower face. One intravenous tube delivered painkillers through one arm, while the other administered blood that Cuchulainn donated earlier. Her injuries had been so awful that most of her body was covered in numerous bandages. She looked exceptionally fragile as she lay there in a quiet slumber, as if moving her even an inch would cause her to fall apart at the seams. Mini-Cu was tucked in the sheets next to her, practically keeping a valiant watch on her. The shelves and tables nearby were decorated with a large variety of flowers in vases given as get-well gifts from the staff and Servants, brightening up the bland white room with splashes of vibrant colors like paint on a blank canvas.

The moment he saw Connla, Cuchulainn clenched his teeth and fought back the urge to scream. His eye twitched uncontrollably, and every nerve in his body trembled.

“Cu…” Medb whispered.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know she’s gonna be fine. It’s just… Ungh…”

Nightingale approached him and said, “Da Vinci explained everything to me. You inhabited the body of that doll in order to stay by the patient’s side should she be in any danger. It was a precautionary measure due to the potential of an unknown enemy targeting the patient’s life.”

“I just had a bad feeling about it. Every time she goes on a mission, she winds up suffering much worse injuries than most Servants of her level can survive.”

“So I’ve heard. But your strained expression is telling me the truth. You must be saying to yourself, ‘Even though I was right there, I still failed to protect her.’ Am I wrong?”

“…”

“Nonsense. That kind of prudence can only be praised,” Nightingale scolded him. “The real fault lies with whomever wants to end the patient’s life, even going to such great measures to ensure that she is assassinated.”

Cuchulainn scowled darkly, “Why is this happening to her?”

“I cannot say for sure. From my experience with her however, I believe there is little to no possibility of anyone actually holding a grudge against her. She works tirelessly to ensure that all of Chaldea’s operations run smoothly, even though I have told her countless times to mind her constitution. Her behavior is such that she doesn’t seek to start arguments either. The only thing I can suggest is that her pursuers see her as some kind of obstacle to a goal they have in mind. In that regard, there’s no need to factor in guilt or innocence – her very existence is a threat in itself.”

“Hmph…” He didn’t like the prospect, but he also believed it made the most sense.

“Don’t worry,” Roman assured. “We may still be investigating for the Seventh Singularity, but we can also devote resources to searching for this unknown enemy and eliminating them. Connla is one of us, and we’ll do everything in our power to make sure she is safe. Most of the other Servants have been notified of what’s been happening to her and will watch over her diligently so that this doesn’t happen again.”

“Hey,” Cuchulainn grumbled in a miserable tone. “Is she having another one of those dreams again?”

“You mean when she witnesses another Connla’s life in a parallel world? El-Melloi said that’s the case.”

_“Shit-!”_ the Berserker seethed bitterly. The bad news just kept piling up one after the other so quickly that he barely had time to sort himself out. That awful sensation of dread and fear for his daughter’s well-being swelled in his chest like a pounding tumor and refused to let him go.

“Compose yourself,” Nightingale ordered. “Going into a frenzy is not going to solve anything. You need to stay calm and listen to what everyone has to say. It is your duty as the patient’s parent to be informed of her treatment plan, and to accept it in order for her to make a full recovery.”

“Talk big all you want, woman, but there ain’t a goddamn thing you can do about Connla’s nightmares, is there?”

“That is beyond my expertise. All I am is a nurse capable of healing sickness and injury. That’s why the head doctor has employed Zhuge Liang to investigate this whole dream issue.”

“That stone-faced mage? What can he possibly do about this?”

“That is for him to explain. I have to warn you however – his research may involve him experimenting with the patient.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” Cuchulainn swore. “Now the kid’s being reduced to some mage’s guinea pig?”

“It’s all so we can have a better understanding of what’s going on here,” Roman said. “I promise that we won’t do anything that’ll cause further harm to her.”

“What a joke. Are you gonna feed me some tired line like ‘it’s all in the name of science’, or some bullshit like that? I swear, you scientist types are all the bloody same.”

“Uh, I’m a doctor, not a scientist…”

“The semantics are irrelevant. Well, if it’s in her best interest, then I’ll let you guys investigate whatever the hell this dream nonsense is. If you start overstepping your boundaries however, I won’t have a problem with gutting you, got it?”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nightingale said, unperturbed by his threat.

With that, the grumpy Cuchulainn sauntered past Ritsuka and Mash, and sat next to Connla’s bed without saying another word. The others knew what this meant; he didn’t want to be bothered with anything else until she was fully healed. Medb followed him and sat on the other side of the bed, telling the girls, “I’ll take care of Cu and Connie. You two go on and take care of business as usual.”

“Thanks, Medb,” Ritsuka said, then she and Mash left.

The doctors and nurses departed for now, expecting to do a check-up on Connla later. Cuchulainn sat on her right side and nestled her small hand into his much larger palm. He stared intently at the gold ring with red marks on her right thumb, remembering how he had originally given it to Aife so that Connla would wear it when she was ready to see him. He just never imagined that the girl would go through so many horrendous trials and tribulations in order to reunite with him, both while they were alive and now as Servants. Cuchulainn closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of Connla’s hand – however badly mangled she was, he was just glad she managed to survive.

Medb quietly watched him, then approached the other side of the bed and asked, “Is it okay if I hold her hand too?”

“… Whatever,” he muttered.

The queen took Connla’s limp hand in her own. She giggled lightly, “He he. She looks so cute when she’s sleeping. Almost like a baby.”

“Hmph,” Cuchulainn grunted. “If it’s anything like last time, then get used to it.”

Medb suddenly looked worried. She didn’t like it when the young Lancer was in a coma for half a month. During that whole time, her beloved ‘Cu’ didn’t act like himself at all. It as was if no one else around him existed. He was present physically, but his mind was far, far away from everyone in Chaldea. He didn’t even have the energy to go on missions when he was usually glad to pierce his spear through his enemies. Only when Connla woke up did Cuchulainn return to normal and Medb could resume her fruitless pursuit for his affection. She feared the same thing was going to happen all over again.

_Connie… Please don’t be asleep for so long this time. Your daddy will worry himself to death if you keep doing this to him…_

* * *

As Ritsuka and Mash headed back to their rooms to get some sleep, they happened upon Sigurd who was leaning his back against the wall, appearing to be in deep thought. He didn’t seem to notice them approaching, so Ritsuka asked, “Hey, there. What are you doing?”

“Nothing much,” he murmured. “I’ve just been concerned about the Sons of Arthur and Cuchulainn, so I feel it is appropriate for me to be around should anything go wrong.”

“Speaking of which,” Mash said, “we haven’t really heard much about your side of the story yet. My understanding is that you were summoned to protect them while they were stranded in that world, but was that really all there was?”

“Not necessarily. The goddess Frigg warned me of the calamity that would have befallen that realm had we not interfered. She didn’t inform me of Brynhildr’s involvement though, so I was quite shocked that I had to fight against my beloved.”

“Brynhildr was there?” the young Shielder’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Indeed. Frigg must have summoned me precisely because I was the equivalent needed to bring an end to Brynhildr’s mad scheme.”

“Mad scheme?”

“She and a group of Servants claimed to call themselves Denialists, or those who seek to undo their own histories by going back to the time when they were alive and altering the past in some dramatic fashion. They all have the same mysterious Master, whom even they only know as the First Denialist, who has the ability to transport them from alternate worlds and unite them in this common goal. The First Denialist is also the one responsible for stranding Mordred and Connla in that world, but there was a different purpose for that. This Master only gives one objective for their Servants to complete; to end the life of the Son of Cuchulainn, no matter the cost.”

“What!?” both girls gasped.

“Difficult as it may be to understand, that is the truth. The reason is unknown, but it’s clear that the First Denialist is determined to kill Connla. How their Denialists go about changing their personal histories is all up to them – their Master does not interfere nor support their plans. They only care about Connla’s death.”

“So all of those strange incidents that she’s been dealing with lately…” Ritsuka clenched her hand in frustration. “They all must have been the work of this First Denialist character!”

“That might make sense though,” Mash narrowed her eyes. “Remember what she and Da Vinci told us about Berserker Lancelot? He appeared in pre-Camelot to destroy the lake where the fairy of the lake Nimue would raise him, thereby altering his own past. He must have been summoned there by the First Denialist to do that, and to get rid of Connla. It’s possible that the unsent Aife that she and Medb dealt with before is related as well.”

Sigurd raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Are you saying this has happened before?”

“Yes, several times. Every time Connla goes out to complete a mission, she winds up either having to be rescued, or fights such a deadly battle that she is incapacitated. Compounding things is how she falls into deep comas and has dreams of herself in other worlds.”

“Hmm,” he closed his eyes and pondered for a moment. Then he muttered something strange under his breath:

“Imbas Forosnai…”

“What was that?” Ritsuka wondered.

“No, it’s nothing. In any case, I have joined Chaldea with the intent of finding out who this First Denialist is and silencing them for good. If they are capable of bewitching Brynhildr into changing her history with me, no doubt they have tempted others with such an immoral offer. Of course, I will assist with the organization’s primary goal of correcting the Singularities and confronting Solomon.”

“All right. I’m glad you’re here to help us out.”

“Think nothing of it. You should go and get some rest now, Master.”

Ritsuka and Mash nodded, then left Sigurd be. He returned to his contemplative posture and folded his arms, thinking about his time with his wife back when he was alive. He noted how his memories of his first meeting with her within Mt. Hindarfjall were perfectly intact, meaning his history with her had been successfully preserved.

_Brynhildr… How unfortunate that I could not convince you to join Chaldea with me. However, I will always cherish the memories I have with you, and hope for the day when Master is able to summon you anew in this place as an ally. Only then may I have the hope of forging a better future for us, rather than you wallowing in agony over our tragic fate for eternity…_

* * *

Back in Denmark, specifically in Odense, it had been a week since the citizens witnessed the strange beams of sunshine radiating from the direction of Copenhagen. Ever since then, many folk felt uncertain of what was going on or why such a strange occurrence happened. Their anxiety was compounded by the lack of monsters swarming around and attacking. No one could tell if it was a good omen or a bad one.

Ahren obeyed his mother and remained inside for the entire time, though he barely moved from the eastern window of the house. Whenever he wasn’t busy helping with chores, he would sit there and look outside in a daze. He couldn’t get Connla and Mordred out of his mind, wholly believing they had something to do with the mystical light. He didn’t hear any word about their fates however, so he was somewhat melancholic from the idea that they could have perished for his and all of Denmark’s sake.

Linnea noticed her son’s despondent behavior and, though she wanted to console him, decided to leave him be. Words of comfort would ring hollow to him when there were no concrete facts for her to rely on. She knew of his obsession with heroes and great warriors, and believed it would be difficult for him to accept that the two Heroic Spirits who saved their lives wound up sacrificing themselves in the end. His idea of a true hero was one who defeated the villains and came home to celebrate.

This morning however, things would begin to change. After eating breakfast, Ahren opened the curtain and was about to observe the eastern sky again as per his routine, but stopped when he noticed something odd going on.

“Mom,” he called out, “I see a bunch of people gathered outside.”

“Really? What could be going on so early in the morning?” Linnea wondered. They were too curious to ignore this, so they ventured out and followed several citizens who were rushing for the town square. Hovering above the assembled spectators was Thrud, who had notified the mayor and town leaders that she had a message she wanted to impart to everyone.

“Greetings, my beloved people! I am Thrud, one of the daughters of Odin!” she declared.

“Whoa, check it out, Mom! That’s a Valkyrie! A real Valkyrie!” Ahren gasped, pointing at the lady.

“Shh! Don’t interrupt!” Linnea chastised him.

Thrud continued, “As you may know, seven moons ago, there was an incident involving the presence of an unnatural light radiating from Copenhagen Fortress, the stronghold of the oppressors who have been spreading terror across these humble lands. I’m sure that many of you have grown uncertain of the nature of that light, and what has become of the enemy. By the good grace of Odin and all who dwell in Asgard, I am here to pass good tidings upon you – that light was the signal of the oppressors’ downfall!”

Many folks gasped in delighted surprise and held each other’s hands, including Linnea and Ahren.

“Rejoice, for many heroes came together in this time of peril and silenced the enemy! Our chosen ones in Valhalla, as well as those from other lands, joined hands as a united front to crush the villainous forces that plagued you all!” Thrud declared. “I know this victory may feel shallow to those who had loved ones perish at the hands of the despicable minions our enemies wrought forth. Though no kind of victory from war will bring those lost souls back, I implore you to remain strong and turn to those who are still with you for comfort. Find peace with each other, and know that the tyranny you all faced together has been thoroughly vanquished, thus preventing further tragedies from occurring. Find the strength to put your pain in the past and tread forward with hope in your hearts.”

She lofted her spear high and shouted, “ _Gud, konge og fædreland!_ ” †

“ _Gud, konge og fædreland!_ ” everyone raised their fists up and cheered.

“That is all. Farewell and godspeed, my countrymen. Should any of you become valiant warriors, you and I might meet again,” the Valkyrie concluded, then flew off into the distance.

Ahren’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he emphatically exclaimed, “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Mordred and Connla really _were_ the heroes we had been waiting for!”

“That lady didn’t mention them at all,” Linnea said, hugging her son tightly, “but I believe they came through for us too.”

“They _definitely_ did! Now I know for sure – I’m gonna be a great warrior like them when I grow up! I’ll be so amazing that there’s no doubt I’ll be chosen to be part of Valhalla’s chosen heroes!”

“You really do take after your father, don’t you? He was that determined to be a warrior as well. Well, we can talk about that once you come of age. For now, let’s start packing up our things and prepare to go back home to Nyborg.”

“Yeah!”

* * *

At the entrance to Asgard, hidden to all in the mortal world of Midgard, Thrud reunited with Hildr, Ortlinde, and numerous other Valkyries. She asked her sisters, “Have you all sent word to the citizens?”

“Frederica’s all set,” Hildr smiled. “Ah, I haven’t felt this good in ages. It’s not often I get to be the bearer of such auspicious news. Everyone was hugging and celebrating. Some even wanted to share their alcohol with me, though I respectfully declined.”

Ortlinde said, “I have informed those living in Vejle. Their reaction was quite similar.”

Each of the Valkyries had been tasked with relaying the same information that Thrud did to every populated town and city all across Denmark, with some venturing to Sweden and Germany to assuage any fears that their leaders had.

“Good,” Thrud replied. “Now that the citizenry can get their lives back on track, we must focus on acquiring new heroes to replace the ones we lost. Though a false Ragnarok has been averted, we must conscript more warriors to fill in the ranks for when the true Ragnarok looms upon us.”

“At least the ones who survived will have had good practice with fighting a real end-of-the-world war,” Hildr said. “They can train the newcomers and get them ready for the inevitable battle we are to face.”

“Yes,” Ortlinde murmured. “Once I have recovered sufficiently enough, I will begin my search.”

Thrud grinned lightly and said, “There were some promising souls I happened to glance upon, though they will need a few years to blossom as real soldiers. Until then, we must exercise patience. Come, sisters. Let us return to Asgard and rest our weary wings.”

* * *

“…”

“… It was a bust, wasn’t it?”

No response. The red-cloaked figure residing within the isolated Reality Marble didn’t want to acknowledge their lantern familiar’s blunt assessment. Having expended their energy to control the Holy Grail from literally universes away, they had grown exceptionally tired and wanted to get some sleep. The winged lantern saw their master yawn beneath the hood and said, “You must be exhausted, huh? Let’s get you to bed.”

“…”

“I know the Denmark incident was a failure, but look on the bright side. The Denialists you stationed in two other dimensions have successfully led their worlds to ruin. The mana generated from the Artificial Pruning process should be enough to get you back to speed.”

“…”

“Yeah, I know. Neither of those worlds had a Connla in them, and the Chaldea one escaped your death sentence once again. She’s proving to be a real problem, isn’t she? If she comes too close to figuring out who you are, those Servants she’s made friends with will swarm like gnats and put an end to our ambitions. Just when we’ve reached our halfway mark too.”

The cloaked person yawned again and, ignoring their chattering familiar, headed back for the lone hut in the middle of the field of swaying grass and flowers. The deep pink sky and blackened landscape appeared lonely as the Reality Marble’s creator shut the door behind them, leaving the solemn fields to mourn the person’s absence.

“There we go,” the lantern said, pulling aside the bed covers for its owner to slump beneath. The figure didn’t even bother taking off their robes, preferring to be kept snug beneath multiple layers of cloth. The lantern said, “I’ll be out on patrol with the other familiars as usual, okay?”

“…”

“Leave it to me. Sweet dreams, Aisling.”

* * *

Back in Chaldea, Cuchulainn Alter continued his vigilant watch over Connla as she slept. He barely acknowledged the medical staff as they periodically came in to examine her vitals. When the equivalent of nighttime came around, he would sit in a lazy fashion on the nearby windowsill and get some sleep, often drifting off from the sound of the heart monitor beeping in tune to Connla’s heartbeat.

The next morning, Cuchulainn woke up to find Mordred and a very cross Artoria Lancer Alter standing near the bed. He let out an unceremoniously rude yawn and grumbled, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be chained to your bed or something?”

“Oh please, like I’m going to let myself be tied down so easily,” Mordred scoffed.

“She obstinately insisted that she pay a visit,” Artoria muttered vapidly, then folded her arms, “even though Agravain had his knights virtually maim her to the brink of death. To think I had such a man within my ranks… I feel nothing but utmost shame for what he put Sir Mordred through.”

“I said not to worry about that! The Grail healed me after you destroyed it, remember? The worst of that has been taken care of!”

“That’s no excuse to go running around like a petulant child. Master’s order was for you to rest. I will not tolerate any of my Knights of the Round Table disobeying their Master, even if that means I have to get violent with you again.”

“Geez, you’re sounding a lot like Nightingale…”

“Hey,” Cuchulainn crudely stopped them. “Think you could take your comedy routine somewhere else? The kid’s trying to sleep, y’know.”

“Oops, sorry,” Mordred covered her mouth and whispered. She leaned over Connla and gazed upon her sleeping face. “How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be okay, but don’t expect her to wake up anytime soon.”

“I’ll bet. Taking Brynhildr Romantia head-on for me was absolutely crazy.”

“That’s just the type of person she is. She’d rather fall in battle so that her stronger allies can take out the enemies on her behalf.”

Artoria muttered, “Hard to believe she’s the daughter of someone as diabolical as you, Mad Hound of Ulster.”

“I could say the same to you, King of Storms. How’d someone as glorious as you give birth to a kid who wound up biting the hand that fed her?”

“H-Hey… I don’t like where this conversation is going…” Mordred uttered nervously.

“Hmph,” Artoria smirked, but dismissed Cuchulainn’s comment. “I guess we Alters are truly toxic to each other. I’d best minimize my interactions with you for our childrens’ sake.”

“Right,” he agreed and looked away from the black-armored knight. He instead said to Mordred, “By the way, there’s something I wanted to say to you for the longest time.”

“Huh? To me? What is it?”

“Well, the thing is… Even though I was there the whole time inside Mini-Cu, you helped the kid through the first leg of that journey. I just wanted to… well… express my gratitude…” the Berserker muttered, almost appearing to be blushing. “Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing…”

Mordred bashfully wiped her nose, then grinned, “Hey, don’t sweat it. We all have the same Master, so we have to look out for each other, right? Besides, I think Connla and I are ‘brothers’ now. I mean, not literally, but in spirit. You get what I mean?”

“Brothers, huh?” Cuchulainn muttered and closed his eyes. Then he grinned and said, “Fine. You better not screw up from now on. Connla’s gonna be looking up to you as an older sibling, got it?”

“Got it!”

* * *

In the realm of dreams, Connla sunk like a stone into the familiar aqua blue dimension, filled with schools of imaginary fish swimming around. Soon, kaleidoscopes of colors reflected around everywhere in an intensely nonsensical rainbow that never remained still. She felt herself plummeting further and further into the colorful abyss, heading straight for a particular gap that opened up. As she descended, only one question entered her mind:

_What am I going to experience this time?_

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE #1

† - “God, King and Fatherland.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE #2: And with that, another one done. I was a bit slower in writing this time since I’ve gotten addicted to a new mobile game, plus it’s harder to write when it’s so bloody hot, but I made sure to set some time aside for this story nonetheless. This fic was basically the answer to some people’s requests while throwing in things I wanted to write about as well, so hopefully you all enjoyed it. As usual, the next one will not show up until around NaNoWriMo 2019, so don’t expect anything until then.

In the meantime, I’ve got a special little mini-poll for you folks! While Connla is going to experience another dream like in _Novus Ordo Seclorum_ , I need help in deciding between one of two stories that I’m going to write for NaNo. I can’t seem to make up my mind, so I’m gonna turn to you guys for a little help. Which of these stories do you want to read? A retelling of _Fate/Stay Night_ where Connla appears to correct the wrongs of the tainted Fifth Holy Grail War? Or a completely original, _Fate/Zero_ -esque HGW where she is engaged against other Servants that don’t exist anywhere in canon like her (and has the bad ending some folks have been yearning for)?

Let me know in your reviews as soon as you can (preferably before September) so I can begin preparing my notes. The story that isn’t selected will be written at a later date. Okay y’all, I’m taking a much-needed writing break now. See you in November!

\- Benit149, 2018-2019


End file.
